


The Storms and What Came After

by EssytheWolf



Category: Dragon Age II, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Enderal (Video Game), World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Fictober, Gen, Mutliple fandoms, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fic, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, fictober18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 24,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssytheWolf/pseuds/EssytheWolf
Summary: A time. A place. A moment. And a bunch of prompts to help.For Fictober 2018.





	1. Can you feel this?

**Author's Note:**

> Answering the call for Fictober 2018! 
> 
> Each title is the prompt and tags will be expanded as we go along. I will do my best to update daily.
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> Fandom: World of Warcraft

Osha curled her fingers into ash and dirt. The World Tree still burned despite a week’s passing. Behind her, the fighting to reclaim Lor’danel had calmed to white noise with the sloshing tide. Today, she did not call upon the elements to feel their grief and pain. Today, she did not pray upon the light to soothe the ache in her bones and in her soul.

Today, she grieved on her own. 

She hadn’t been on Azeroth long compared to Draenor or Argus. But in the few years she got to explore and befriend many of its inhabitants…she never felt this much heartache and panic over a planet’s attraction to tear itself apart.

“It’s terrible isn’t it? I-I’d only been a handful of times b-but it was always so lovely…”

Osha turned her horned head to the new voice. A human girl. Young. She recognized the violet eye on her robes. 

“What do you feel when you look at it?” 

“Wha-what?” The girl’s stormy eyes were wide and raw. She clutched her staff tight to her chest.

Osha sighed and spread the mix of ash and dirt to the wind. 

“Yes, you may feel sad. You may grieve. Many feel anger and a thirst for vengeance. But do you know what I feel?”

The young mage looked uncomfortable. “What?”

“Awed and exhausted.”

She had enough sense to look confused, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a frown.

“Exhausted I understand, I-I think, but why awed? Y-you sound as if y-you admired what they did. Something that h-had stood for many years and held such a s-sacred place to people has been snuffed out i-in an instant!” There was the anger that many harbored now. “It’s nothing to glorify!”

“Child, I do not glorify what has happened.” She turned and placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “No. I am awed because despite all my years, all my experience, I thought I had seen it all. The Legion, the Scourge, the Cataclysm…” 

The girl said nothing. The hand on her shoulder was warm and strong in its grip.

“It is terrible. But I will never tire of being surprised by what others can accomplish.”

“…It still sounds like you admire them,” the girl muttered. She shrugged away from Osha’s hand.

Osha sighed again. “Perhaps I do. But does that mean I have to approve? Do we not come together in trying times? Doesn’t pain often bring healing?”

“W-wasn’t that supposed t-to work when the Legion came back?”

“It was successful for a time no? My admiration does not relegate to one event alone. But what comes after. Good and bad.”

The girl looked up at her. She still looked confused but the anger had ebbed from her delicate features.

“You are a very weird Draenei.”

“And you are a very young woman. As I am a very, very old woman.”

There was a pause. The tide foamed closer to their feet. A sudden cacophony of war cries echoed behind them. Osha tucked away her thoughts and instead opened them to feel the familiar tug of magic. The elements answered her with welcome cries.

“I think it’s time to put the awe in the Horde for daring to attack us, yes?” Osha turned on her hooves and made quick strides back to town.

The mage had no choice but to follow, “I-I yes?! Wait for me!”

 


	2. People like you have no imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal the Shards of Order

Leanara caught her balance for the third time that day. The strong wind and rumbling thunder foretold a storm which was doing its best to knock the small woman onto the stone street. A noble glared at her when she bumped him trying to descend the stairs to the South Quarter of Ark.

Another gust accompanied by heavy pellets of raid nearly sent her sprawling backwards into someone else behind her. Strong hands grabbed her arms from behind.

“You’re making quite a habit of falling down aren’t you?” She felt the rumble of Jespar's chuckle against her back. 

“The first time you could have warned me,” she huffed as he straightened her at the bottom of the stairs. He wore his hood up from the rain but the silver bangs that stuck out where already soaked with the sudden downpour. Lea pulled her own hood though the damage had been done to her honey locks.

“You wound me my fair lady. How was I supposed to know pulling the lever wouldn’t open a door?” 

She turned to face him, who had placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. It didn’t stop the grin spreading on his face though. She stuck her tongue out at him. The crack of thunder sent them jogging for a shelter.

“Over here, quickly!” He pulled her to the closet building and shoved her inside.

“The, uh, art gallery?”

He paused, taking in their surroundings, “Well, I would have preferred the inn. Could use a drink...”

The “Lateral View”, as it was called, was surprisingly homey despite the many paintings adorning the walls. Several candles had been lit on tables and windowsills to combat the dark storm outside. From what they could see, there was a number of oddly disproportioned and abstract works. Lea couldn’t make heads or tails of where a person ended and a...chair? began in one of them.

She tugged on Jespar’s arm to have him look. “Hey, what do you think this-”

Loud voices cut off her reply. Or rather, one loud voice and another exasperated one attempting to soothe the former. There was no one else on the main floor; a set of stairs led to a loft. Lea and Jespar looked at each other then climbed the stairs to the source.

Erica Braveblood, the art gallery’s caretaker, was pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Gesticulating in front of her was an Aeterna man in rich, gaudy clothing. The clash of colors against his gold skin made Lea’s eyes cross. 

Jespar snorted beside her. “That’s Prince Andreyu of Mith. Or so he calls himself.”

She knew. She had seen the posters plastered on stone walls of his performances at the Fat Leoran Inn. She’d past his pedestal on several occasions on her way to the Sun Temple and swore each time that the man was having a seizure. Plain words intermixed with hawking, guffawing and awkward moaning. Clearly, there was supposed to be some profound impact with his poetry. It mostly came off awkward and confusing. She even came across a book about him:  _ Lyrical Gushes and Other Fluids: A Guide to Prince Mith’s Poems _ . She was an avid reader since coming to Enderal...but that was something she did not finish. 

“I can’t tell you why people aren’t buying, just that they aren’t,” said Erica.

Mith sighed with an embellished hand wave, “I’ll tell you why. These commoners don’t know what it means to see true art! They flock to garbage like Jornas Schmied’s work! Besides, I don’t care about the money. This is the only decent place my work can be appreciated.”

Erica huffed in frustration, “I care about the money. You’re not the one trying to keep this business afloat.”

“Well that’s not my problem is it?”

“It will be if you don’t make something worth selling.” 

“E-excuse me?!”

Jespar cleared his throat, “If it’s these weird paintings you’re talking about, I think Mydame is right in assuming they’re garbage.”

Lea choked on a laugh and covered her mouth, “Gods you’re terrible…”

Jespar looked rather pleased with himself to see the “artist” turn an unsavory shade of orange. Erica bit her lip to keep from grinning.

Mith eyed Jespar critically. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion  _ mercenary _ . I swear, people like you have no imagination...” Prince Mith narrowed his eyes at Jespar who gazed back with a lopsided grin. “A brute like you would have no understanding of the high arts.” 

“Maybe, since clearly an idiot like you doesn’t know the meaning of a business.”

Mith made a noise of disgust and shoved his way past Lea and Jespar. 

Erica cleared her throat, “Thank you Mysir…”

“Jespar Dal’Varek. This is Leanara.” 

Erica nodded to them, “I suppose a thanks is in order.”

“Thank the storm for that,” Lea replied, still smothering giggles.

“Wait,” Mith turned slowly from his mid-step on the stairs. He pointed to Jespar, “I’ve heard your name before. Dal’Varek.” He looked as if he tasted something foul.

Jespar’s grin faltered, “Uh, yes?“

He took a step towards them. “Was your father Damean Dal’Varek?”

“Yeees?” Suspicion laced his voice.

Mith’s lips curled into an indulgent smile, “Oh yes, I heard about him. He is infamous for his 1 to 11 verdict of nobleman Valenzio Duran. Or, he  _ was _ .”

Lea felt her companion’s composure stiffen. 

Sensing he hit a nerve, Mith continued in earnest, “It is a shame to have such a thing happen to a noble house. And an even bigger one for seeing one of its sole survivors debasing himself, if your _ leather rags _ are anything to go by. A lowly mercenary of debauchery. Really…what would the masses think?”

The trial was sure to be common knowledge among the nobles...but to openly sneer at the implications afterwards? She clenched her fists. Jespar told her what happened to his family. How they were slaughtered a week after the trial concluded with him and his sister as sole survivors. And now some moron who creates crap art was rubbing salt in an old wound. Gods, he even sounded  _ artsy _ in his jab.

Jespar shrugged but no longer smiled. “I don’t give a fuck what they think. Past is past. No point dwelling on it.”

“Of course,” Mith clicked his tongue like a parent would to a misbehaved child, “Didn’t expect a fallen noble to understand the importance of roots. And clearly he has poor taste in company.” He turned to Lea with an upturned nose. “Mingling with  _ foreigners _ .”

Jespar turned and inclined his head to Lea, “I think I’ll take my chances in the storm. Are you com-”

“That’s right, run away—“ Both were cut off by a fist to Mith’s jaw. Teeth clacked loudly together. Arms struck out for balance. The man let out a pathetic yelp when his ass hit the stone floor.

Jespar looked at Lea, blue eyes wide with surprise. Erica, who’d been silent in the ordeal, gaped at the small woman. Lea herself stood in front of Mith, fists clenched, yellow eyes narrowed.

“Wha-what…you. You touched me. You  _ hit  _ me!” 

“I...I, yes. Yes I did.” She let the impulse of her action sink in. She just a hit a man for mocking her friend. Her hand buzzed with satisfaction.

“Excuse me?! You harlot! You  _ wench _ ! You wh--!” Mith’s shock turned to messy anger. Neatly combed hair fell in strings over his pretty eyes. A bruise bloomed over his golden skin. He yelped again when he was dragged to his feet. A strong hand gripped the poet’s forearm.

“Anything else? Go on,  _ Prince.  _ You weren’t shy before.” Jespar’s voice was low, blue eyes cold as steel.

“Unhand me you Pathless brute!” 

Jespar shook him and hauled him forward with, probably, too much force. Mith went sprawling and fell forward on his face. His nose audibly cracked against the floor. A howl echoed in the gallery as blood leaked into the crevices.

Erica was next to move as she gingerly picked up the poet.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one day. And I’m sure he gets the point. Again, thank you both, I’ll take care of Mith.” Though she spoke in a brusque tone, she glanced back at the two with a grin. Mith’s pathetic moans were silenced once the two exited to a side room.

Lea let loose the breath she was holding. Jespar did the same. They looked at each other then burst into laughter.

“Well, so much drama! Quite a punch you have my fair lady!” Jespar put an arm around her shoulders. “You continue to surprise me. I don’t think my poor, bastard heart could take any more.”

“Well. You can be a serious person when you need to be.” She meant it as a jest but her voice softened still.

Jespar’s laugh died and he coughed. “Uh...only when I need to be. Not going to let my lady’s honor be slandered.”

“Or my treasure hunter’s honor.”

He gazed at her. She pointedly looked at the floor, face flushed.

“Still want that drink?” she squeaked, “I think the storm let up a little.”

“Of course.” A grin settled on his lips, easier this time. “Will I still count on you to pay for it?”

She playfully slapped his chest. They laughed again. He wouldn’t bring up the slander from Mith, not in its entirety, when they managed to get to the tavern. She wouldn’t mention his drinking to be heavier than usual when they were summoned to the Sun Temple the next day.

Although they both grinned when Prince Mith hurried past them, a scarf covering his broken nose.


	3. How can I trust you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Dragon Age 2  
> Fenris X Female Hawke

“If you think I’m that dangerous then strike me down now.”

Hawke felt grateful that Bodahn and Sandal took Orana to the market. If any of them were here now, they’d be calling the guard. Or Aveline herself.

Fenris paced angrily in front of her. He raked his hair so much, she was surprised he didn’t shear them off with his gauntleted hands. His lyrium tattoos sparked every few seconds but not nearly enough to encompass him like they would in battle.

“How can I trust you?” he barked. He refused to look at her.

“I helped you with Hadriana didn’t I? I gave Orana a job.” She didn’t waver. Her teal eyes remained fixed on the elf in front of her.

He slowed but did not stop. “Yes….you did.”

A pause. She let her eyes drop to her feet. They weren’t going to do this again. The first time it happened...he left her once. She didn’t want that to happen again.

“And to think...you were just here for another reading lesson.”

Fenris looked helplessly at her. “Don’t.”

When Knight-Commander Meredith took leadership of Kirkwall, Hawke did her best to stay out of trouble. This was usually made difficult when you were friends with other apostates and liars. Aveline did her best to cover if anyone stepped out of toe. Often with a tongue-lashing afterwards. But the two years since the Arishok’s defeat, the “Champion of Kirkwall” made herself scarcely known. Simple pleasures were enough. She liked her walks in Hightown, the Wicked Grace games in the Hanged Man, and most of all, she enjoyed teaching Fenris to read. Even if he was still sorting himself out.

He’d been hesitant, defensive, at first. The barrier broken after they finished the Book of Shartan. She supplied fresh reading material whenever possible and made sure to skim the pages first for any of Anders’ manifestos. Maybe she missed one this time and Fenris finally read it.

As if reading her mind, Fenris produced a familiar looking pamphlet to her. It was crushed into a ball but she recognized the scrawl on them.

“Ah...they do get everywhere don’t they?” she laughed nervously.

“I see them everywhere and now I finally have the means to read this propaganda for myself,” he spat. “He is a fool in a fight that cannot win.” He threw the crumpled manifesto to her feet.

“You can’t let what happen with the Magisters apply to every mage. Or to me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. She gazed back evenly.

“So I’ll say it again,” She spread her arms out, “if you think I’m that dangerous to turn into an abomination at any minute, then strike me down. You haven’t done it to Anders yet.”

“Because you think defending him is a a good idea! Six years Hawke!”

“So you _do_ trust me enough to stay your hand at least?”

“Fasta Vaas!” He threw his hands up then raked through his hair once more. She took a step toward him. He snapped his eyes to hers. She didn’t know how long they stared at each other. His were a stormy sea she couldn’t hope to navigate. Finally, Fenris lowered his gaze.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Just…” He snatched up the book they were practicing with from a nearby table and turned to leave.

“We don’t choose this. I know you hear that over and over again.” She doesn’t want to be ashamed of what she is.

“But you choose to use magic for more power. You bring demons to you.”

“We bring demons without doing a damn thing. Just because we born with it is enough.”  But they just _had_ to rub that in their faces don’t they? Maker, she was tired.

More silence. He stood rigid, fists clenching and unclenching.

She sighed heavily. “Can you trust me enough to not turn on you at least?”

He turned, one eye just visible under his silver fringe, “...yes.”

She did not stop him from leaving again.

 


	4. Will that be all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal the Shards of Order

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Lishari drew her blade and held it forward towards the Truchessa. Her dark eyes alight with rage.

“Come and make me then, I’d be delighted,” she snarled.

The Truchessa narrowed her eyes but did not rise from her seat to meet the challenge. She shouldn’t have to to this  _ wild mage _ . 

Lishari realized she wouldn’t be answered. Fine. She will answer for this bitch. She raised her sword arm, half the table raising with her to stop her until-

Someone grabbed her other arm and yanked, nearly tipping her off balance.

“The fuc-” her eyes widened in surprise to see the Prophetess was the one to stop her.

“Why?” She ground out through clenched teeth. She should be on her side. So why-

“She’s not worth it,” Leanara said quietly. She squeezed the mage’s arm.

“For once I agree with the our “Prophetess’” actions. Stand down, mage,” said the Truchessa smugly.

Lea ignored her and instead focused on Lishari who snarled again at the offending woman. 

“Is this what Firespark would have wanted from you?” This time from Grandmaster Aranthael. He stood his full height, back erect, hands behind his back, chin held high.

Both women looked at him. Lishari opened and closed her mouth. Lea frowned at him. Aranthael ignored the Prophetess and focused solely on Lisahri.

“As understandable as it may be, will you risk this alliance for your anger?” His voice commanded an answer.

Lishari tore away from Lea and sheathed her blade. “No. No it isn’t.”

“Good. I tire of this bickering.” He returned his attention the rest of the table.

Lishari leaned towards Lea and whispered, “Thanks...talk to me after the meeting.”

Aranthael divided work for everyone only acknowledging Lea afterwards to see him after she recovered. She did not wait long to speak to him. After promising to meet Lishari in the Dancing Nomad later that night, she made her way to the Overlook.

She slowed her approach when she saw the tip of a steel construct. There were steps leading to the rise and the closer she got, the more she stared at the emerging steel behemoth. It had a pyramid shape with a several rings encircling the metal skeleton. The parts probably moved but for now they remained static; humming with potential. She sat on one of the benches nearby and waited. As expected, she did not wait long as Aranthael marched up the steps.

“So...this is the Beacon?”

“Yes. We are one step closer to our goal.”

Yes, the reason they were all here, so to speak. She kept her gaze on the Beacon, half-listening to him talk about it and their enemies, the High Ones. The whole thing was exhausting. Powers to wipe out mankind. War with the Nehrimese. And here she thought she escaped that when she came to Enderal. She wasn’t sure which was the lesser evil. 

She wanted to check on Lisahri. 

“Prophetess are you listening?”

“No.”

“What?”

She looked at him wide-eyed. Surprised at her own answer.

“This is not a game. If you endanger our mission because of your carelessness, I will find a way to do this without you.” It was the first time that night he looked at her directly and not with kindness. His eyes were hard and sharp with disapproval.

She looked away, squirmed under his gaze. The Beacon loomed over them from the center of the Overlook. It too, seemed to judge her harshly.

“Is that all?” She asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

“For now. Go. I will call upon you again when the Chroniclers give us more information to power the Beacon.” With that, the Grandmaster turned to regard their saving grace of steel.

Lea rushed past him and out of the Overlook. 

 


	5. Take what you need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Isabela must have gone through her mail again. She was worse than Gamlen when he frisked the envelopes for money. She probably did that too but then she left “presents”. Crude drawings in the margins. Often on the letters from Carver. Him and his templar buddies. Nude.

“Oh grow up Isabela…”

“Adds character to your baby brother doesn't it?”

Hawke nearly jumped out of her skin when said woman peaked over her shoulder with a sly grin.

“I don't need to see my brother nude, drawing or otherwise.”

Isabela cackled and joined the crowd gathering in her lounge. 

Varric decided that Wicked Grace was to be played at her estate tonight, rather than the usual bustle in the Hanged Man. He jokingly offered to use Fenris’ mansion but Fenris pointedly reminded him that he hadn't cleaned much besides the corpses from when they first raided it. Hawke’s mother was offered a seat but she was halfway out the door, claiming to have tea at the Comte de Launcet mansion. Bodahn was also given an offer to join but he politely refused after noticing Isabela trying to give Sandal lessons.

It was down to the usual except for Aveline who refused to participate with Isabela at the table.

“I don’t want to end up down to my undergarments like Anders was last week.”

“That’s fine,” said Isabela as she shuffled the cards, “Don’t want to see what you look like under all that crap you wear. Though I’m sure some of your guard know.” She flashed the Guard-Captain a wicked grin. “Who’s that you’ve been ogling in the barracks? Don-”

“Shut it before I shut it for you.” Aveline accepted a goblet of wine from Fenris and downed it. If for nothing else than to keep from grabbing Isabela’s slender neck. 

“Ladies please, let’s deal at least one hand before you tear each other’s throats out.” Varric swiped the deck from Isabela and cut the cards again. Not that it usually mattered.

****

No one ended up in their skivvies that night. However, everyone, except for Isabela, was at least a sovereign short. 

“How is it you keep winning?” Merril pushed her cards away. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted in her chair. 

Isabela gave Merril a gentle pat on the head. “I cheat Kitten. And I relinquish all my winnings to those who can best me at it. Only one has been able to do that so far.”

“Then why the hell do we let her keep playing with us?” Anders asked, tossing his cards to the pile.

“Because it’s a terrible addiction? And because if we win, all of us will be rich from all the money she’s kept,” Hawke replied as-a-matter-of-factly. 

“Who won against you?” Fenris asked.

“Play me again and I might tell you,” Isabela winked at him. He coughed and drank from his bottle.

“Speaking of...Broody, I’m putting you down for three sovereigns that you’re going to owe me now.”

“I’m well aware, Dwarf.”

“Here, take what you need.” Hawke passed what was left of her pile to the Elf. He recoiled as if he’d been struck. 

“No,” he said sharply, “I don’t need you trying to pay my debts.”

“It’s alright. I have a lot left over still from Bartrand’s expedition. I can spare some sovereigns.” He continued to glower at her. She shrugged then grinned at him. “Or would you rather have me pay you in Antivan port?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, the hard look on his face easing into thought. Then he shook the contents of his bottle, “I...may consider it if you can find a good year.” She swore she saw him smirk from behind his drink. Maybe he could be reached after all.

“Will you pay me in beer?” Isabela cut in. She wiggled her eyebrows at the two of them. “Could always use a break from the swill at the Hanged Man. Ooh, or better yet, Llomerryn rum...”

 


	6. I heard enough, this ends now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal  
> Warning for brief gore and mentions of assault though not explicit.

The first few seconds were spent feeling the dust on her face. Soft, powdery. No, not dust. Ash. 

Lea felt cold stone against her cheek. When she pushed herself up, chunks of it scraped her hands and knees. She opened her eyes and gazed in wonder at the gaping hall in the wall. The room itself was bare. Only a table, a candelabra and a broken chest adorned the small space. A cell probably, but with no immediate door.

She smelled smoke. The ash drifted in from the next room that her hole conveniently opened to. A great library though half of the shelves were toppled. A huge steel grate in the center of the library allowed you to see the the story below. Chunks of it were bent or missing entirely. Small fires sputtered around the room. Loose pages unfortunate to be caught in whatever this was. Another hole had been blown into the ceiling, revealing a cloudy grey sky. Morning already? It had been night when they first entered.

Then she saw the red streaks on what was left of the ceiling. A chandelier swung precariously with half a corpse on it. She recognized the bright clothes but the head, the arms and half the torso were gone. She could see the white of his spine, sheared as if some beast cleaved him in two. More blood was smeared on the walls, the floors, and the grate. She passed more body parts. An arm, a leg, the head of a man with his tongue sticking out, eyes wide in horror.

And then there  _ she _ was. Red covered her from head to toe though the swirling mark on the woman’s cheek was still visible. Lea stumbled forward to her knees in front of her. She was cold to the touch but her side rose and fell.

“Calia?”

***********

The fires were quickly put out and Lea tucked her friend in a cloak at one of the library’s far corners. Calia’s armor lay in a neat pile beside her. Much of it had been strewn across the hall. She’d be safe for now while Lea searched the private quarters for their “prize”. 

A set of double doors led to a dining hall. Silver goblets and silverware remain prepared for a meal that would never made. There was a flash. She stumbled as another vision shook her body. The room shimmered and at the end of the table sat two, transparent figures. A man and a girl. The man, dressed in simple robes, bent over the table, stroking the cheek of the girl who sat still and stiff. The voices were garbled but she made out two words.

“ _ My Angel. _ ”

The room flashed again and they were gone. 

***********

She was so close to the end. The final sanctum lay before her. Snow covered much of the floor; the roof nothing more than a skeleton of the support beams. A statue of an Angel kneeled before an altar. A raised pedestal stood at the room’s center and in that pedestal’s holder...was a little black stone.

This tiny thing was the cause of all this  _ grief _ . She approached the pedestal, hands trembling though not from the cold. Just as her fingers reached for the stone, a spark sent her reeling back. Cold whipped at her face and hands. It tore through her leathers like it was paper. A screech pierced the air and above the altar writhed an ethereal serpent. 

Lea brought up her bow and let the first arrow fly. It bounced harmlessly off its exoskeleton. Tiny, jagged bones lit up like blue veins as it chased her around the room. She fired arrow after arrow.  _ Crack _ .  _ Crack _ . Slowly, she chipped at it.

Those damn Kilean mercenaries. Nothing could ever be _easy_ could it? She didn’t see...she didn’t need to see what they were doing. And-and then she fell, and there were these _noises_. The mercenaries were screaming.

She screamed. The serpent lashed at her leg, snapping it with cold.  _ What was this? _ Her leg quickly went numb and she fell. It hissed above her. No,  _ not like this _ . She aimed for its head and poured energy into the arrow. The tip burst into flame and whistled as it was set loose. Heat buffeted her face when the arrow made impact and burst the creature’s head into tiny, blue shards. 

The room stilled. Only the wind disturbed the snow and serpent fragments. Her injured leg flared back to life like tiny needles stabbing her flesh over and over again. She checked her leg but there was no physical wound. Only the slow and painful mend for its feeling to return. She curled up on the floor and waited.

Flash. Gods, another vision?

A little girl screamed. Lea turned to look at the altar where the girl from the dining room withered and transformed. Her transparency turning black in the vision. The man from before was back too. He kneeled over her, called to her. Then he was gone. Instead a veiled woman kneeled in his place. She inclined her head to Lea, as if the woman knew she was there. 

“You have no idea just how special you are, Calia.”

Lea squeezed her eyes shut. No more. It’s over. 

What was she going to tell her?

  
  
  



	7. No worries, we still have time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

Fogville lived up to its name. A thick stream of fog encompassed the entire town and surrounding area that she could hardly see three feet in front of her. Thankfully the Myrad she rode easily navigated the grey soup to its tower nearby without incident. She gave the great, four-eyed beast a gentle pat on its snout before climbing the rocky hill to town. 

Master Firespark said that key to the Living Temple was hidden away here. A key to an ancient Pyrean Temple was hidden away in an abandoned ghost town. Well, the Enderaleans didn’t need to make sense. 

The closer she got, the more she could see the gate that loomed ahead. Large doors sat haphazardly on their hinges in splinters. On her way up she passed siege equipment; broken battering rams littered the town’s approach. What happened here?

She passed underneath the broken gates and recoiled by a stench wafting further in. Death. Like a mix of rotting meat that has sat too long in the sun and unwashed bodies put together. She wrapped a scarf around her nose and continued. She found the source of the smell around one of the bends. A body lay face down but the corpse did not look human. Its skin was grey and covered in pustules, long gnarled fingers still curled around a savage looking axe. When she turned the corpse over with her foot she recoiled again. It’s face was scrunched with many wrinkles and a sagging mouth. Red, beady eyes stared blankly into the sky, its pupil so dilated she only saw black pin pricks at its center. She quickly moved on, keeping her bow on hand just in case there were more. 

She rounded another bend and up the hill. The houses looked more and more intact the further she went. And more lofty. FInally she came upon a clearing, pillars surrounded a well and at the far end was the largest building in the area, most likely the town hall. Two figures stood in the clearing. She recognized one wearing a blue coat. He turned to her, hands flashed to the hilts of his daggers then relaxed when he realized who it was.

“Ah, there she is. Told you she’d get here no problem.” 

“Blasted, blistering blazes! What took you so long? We’ve been waiting for ages.” The other figure clad in green robes turned to her. His long beard twitched with annoyance.

Jespar raised an eyebrow at the old mage. “But you only just-”

“Nevermind you! Come here.” Master Firespark gestured to both of them to come closer. He explained to them what they needed to find. A red orb, similar in likeness to a ruby, was hidden in one of the buildings. They were to find it, then travel north into a crystal forest where the temple would be. Lea perked up at the opportunity to see such a wonder but Firespark waved it off.

“It’s nothing to revel over. You’re more likely to go blind in that forest with all the snow and light.”

When he’d finished he trumped off, legs moving with purpose. Or impatience. Most likely both, Lea thought.

“So…” she turned to Jespar.

“So,” he shrugged, “Why don’t you check the town hall? I’ll look around here and the buildings further out.”

“Sure,” she paused, “were you expecting something else when you saw me?”

He grimaced, “Did you see the Arp on your way in?”

“Arp?” Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, “You mean that...grey creature?”

He nodded, “Yeah, ugly things. They tend to flock to places like this. I’d keep your guard up around here just in case.”

“Duly noted.” Before they could part ways however, she tugged on his coat and asked, “So, know anything about this place?”

Jespar went on a lengthy explanation of the town’s bloody history. He claimed to be fascinated by Fogville’s circumstances and looked pleased with himself when he finished the story. Mad townsfolk, disappearing travelers, bloody rituals and sacrifices. Even a reference to an infamous serial killer. It all culminated on a full-scale siege of the town by the Keepers of Ark. She was surprised by the depth of knowledge he possessed. It was that same surprise when he explained how the ‘sea of eventualities’ worked when he first introduced her to Master Firespark. He was no mage or scholar but he knew the in and outs of the Order, the Arcanists, and much of the history surrounding Enderal. 

“The perks of growing up a noble. It’s one good habit that I’ve kept up at least.”

“Reading?”

“Being well-informed.” He stroked at his chin. “It’s kept me alive on more than one occasion. Now let’s find that key.”

***********

Finding the key was easy. There were more Arps inside the town hall but she easily dispatched them with her bow. Clumsy creatures charged in front of her as easy targets. The orb, now safely tucked in her satchel, was locked in a vault that was easy to pick. She silently thanked Meagar Ironford for his lessons on locks.

The hard part was getting caught in a storm on their way up the Crystal Forest. They had to cross Fogstone Bridge that led them towards the Frostcliff Mountains then take a path left at the Tavern and Myrad Tower up the ways. Snow fell just as they cleared the bridge but the higher they climbed the more intense it got. Lea sidled closer and closer to Jespar until she latched onto his belt to keep from getting blown away. Even the cover of trees did nothing to spare them from the sudden gusts of icy wind.

“Tavern should be close! Stay close to me okay?!” Jespar hooked one arm around Lea’s small frame and guided her through the snow storm. Lea huddled as close to him as she could get without impeding his steps. 

Ahead, they could make out winking, yellow lights of the Frostcliff Tavern. He hauled her along, half-lifting, half-dragging, until the front doors were in arms reach. One of the maids ushered them inside and slammed the door behind them. The howling wind was replaced with buzzing talk and a bard flitting away on a lute next to a huge fireplace.

“By Malphas, what are you two thinking, wandering out there in a storm?!” She helped the two dust the thick layer of snow that caked on to their leathers. 

Jespar slowly undid himself from Lea. His fingers had curled around her side so stiffly, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to pry them off of her. Blazes, she was _ freezing _ . Both of them shivered violently but Jespar was handling it better than she was. He flexed his fingers and thanked the maid for letting them in.

“I-I d-don’t think I-I l-like th-the snow any-ny-more.” She tried to set her jaw but her teeth still clacked together.

The maid snorted beside her, “Aye lass. It’s pretty enough but just as deadly as the wildlife. Exposure kills more than the wolves.” 

Jespar laughed, even if it came out huffed and winded. The maid led them to a table close the large fireplace. Mulled wine and hot stew. Enough to warm their bones and ride out the snow storm.

“You think Firespark is out there?” Lea asked. She kept her goblet close to her chest, swirling its contents and watched the little whirlpools she made.

Jespar sipped from his own and glanced out the nearby window. Snow fell sideways outside but the din of the tavern set him in a stupor.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s old but I don’t think a snow storm is going to slow Old Bushybeard down.” He grinned at her. “He’s probably already there, safe from the storm and tapping his foot waiting for us to show up.”

“Sounds about right,” she giggled into her wine.

They settled into comfortable silence. Lea carefully sipped her wine, letting the warmth spread from her fingertips to her toes. Jespar pulled out his pipe and lit it. The smoke added to the haze within and Lea found it hard to keep her head up. 

She liked this. The warmth, the wine, being  _ normal.  _ In that moment, She wasn’t the Prophetess anymore. Just Lea. She looked at Jespar; his eyes half-lidded, smoke trailing from his lips as his head dipped in time with the bard’s lute. She watched the light from the fireplace color his silver locks orange and yellow and the way the shadows danced on his face. She envied him. How easy he made everything look. And how good he looked doing it. Heat rose to her cheeks that was not relevant to her wine and she turned away to look out a window. She let her mind wander instead to seeing the crystal forest and the Living Temple. She doubted she’d go blind at the sight. There was another brief lapse in song then bard played a ballad she liked. “The Winter Sky”. Seemed fitting right now. 

The snow stopped falling but the light faded outside.

“Helloooo? Is my fair lady there?”

“Wh-what?” 

Sea blue eyes crinkled with amusement. “You look ready to drop. I’ll go ahead and get us a room for the night. We can start fresh tomorrow morning.”

She stared down into her now-empty goblet, flushed with embarrassment. Sleep sounded nice...and terrifying. “Uh. The storm is letting up. Shouldn’t we go before Firespark comes looking for us?”

Jespar motioned for her to follow and led her to the barkeep’s counter, “No worries, we still have time. And getting you into bed won’t be that hard anyway.” He winked at her.

She coughed and looked everywhere else that wasn’t his face, “Gods, you’re terrible. Keep this up and you’re sleeping on the floor treasure hunter.”


	8. I know you do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

There was so much  _ blood _ . His hands were slick with  _ her _ blood. She wheezed and shook against him. Skin ashen, eyes dull. No longer light with laughter or gold with curiosity. Those bright colors bled from her eyes like the blood from her wound.

“Help her! Calia help her!” He didn’t recognize his own voice. Scared, no longer carrying his usual casual vibrato.

The other woman’s hands pressed against a large gash. The cut was deep, blazes, she was lucky the steel dragon didn’t cleave her in half. A soft, white glow emanated from the Keeper’s hands. Her face was set, mouth pulled in a tight line. 

_ Don’t you dare die on me. Don’t you fucking dare. _ He held Lea on his lap, cradling her head. Calia tugged on her trying to get a better look at the gash.

“I need room to work. You need to let her go so I can--” 

A roar and heavy thud against the metal double doors made them jump. 

His first instinct was to run. Another, stronger one, kept him half-curled around the small woman.

“Jespar!” Calia reached out and braced his shoulder. Her eyes softened, she was trembling nearly as bad as he was. She said nothing, just squeezed his shoulder then continued to mend their companion. 

Another thud. Another roar. Several shelves and pottery shattered around them. He brushed a stray hair from Lea’s face.

“Hey treasure hunter…” she smiled weakly at him.

Hysterics bubbled up inside him. He choked back that laugh and instead restrained himself with every iota of strength until the healing finished.

“Can you stand Sa’Ira?” Calia was pale but looked satisfied with her work.

Jespar looked at the wound and felt a small pang of relief fill that it was at least sealed. It was still raw and angry looking but she won’t lose any more blood. They both helped her to her feet. She wobbled, took a few steps then staggered when another thud shook the room. 

“Have to...have to find the map. Then we get the hell out.” 

Calia nodded and parted from her first. Jespar held on, checking her over. She gazed back, some color returned to her eyes; a dull amber now.

He opened his mouth, wanted to tell her exactly how he felt. How she should have focused on running instead of buying _ them _ time trying to distract the blasted thing. How his heart stopped when the dragon dove and managed to nick one claw into her side just before she could leap away in time. Her body flying towards him and Calia in a heap of limbs and blood. Instead he swallowed and tried to smile.

“We should hurry. All this effort will be for nothing if that dragon gets another shot at you.”

 


	9. You shouldn't have come here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enderal Warcraft AU  
> Some explanation: In which Jespar and my Prophetess Leanara from Enderal are dropped in Azeroth. This is mostly an experiment, so not sure how good it will turn out. I currently have them pinned to follow the Alliance/Kul'Tiras storyline. This snippet is based off of the quest "Worker's Rights" and its quest chain in Tiragarde Sound.

He really should have known better than to run. He was supposed to be over this. Now he was hopelessly lost in these god forsaken woods. He remembered crossing a river from one forest to another. The urge to run hadn’t felt this intense since...since…

He leaned against one of the trees and slid down to his haunches. He put his face in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

_ “Jespar! Jespar stop!” _

_ “Sir, please! Don’t hurt him!” _

_ All he saw was wide, green eyes, mouth agape as the man clawed his arm that held his throat. Someone grabbed him from behind, the touch urgent, warm. Familiar. He shoved them away. Dragged the struggling man and pressed him against the grimy wall of the witch’s shack. It wouldn’t take much to wring the life out this stupid, selfish man. It shouldn’t bother him this much. It wasn’t even about the workers this bastard endangered. It was about a dead woman and a crying son.  _

_ Someone grabbed at him again, he turned and shoved whoever it was away from him. _

_ “He’s not Damean! You need to let him go!” _

_ He became acutely aware of his own heavy breathing. The shrill call of birds in the sky. A boy sobbing beside him, reaching out to his father who wheezed beneath his grip. He looked at the boy. Then he looked at Lea. His stomach dropped as he noticed a line of blood streaming down her temple. He let go, recoiled as if he’d touched something hot. The man dropped to his hands and knees, coughed then glared up at him. _

_ What the hell came over him? Just  _ what the fuck _ came over him? _

_ “I...I…” _

_ He looked at Lea. Her yellow eyes were wide and...did he do that? She reached for him, ignoring the blood staining her leathers. He snapped back. That just made those bright, beautiful eyes wetten even more. _

_ He needed to get out of here.  _

He remembered now. The wooden, voodoo constructs attacking the workers in the lumber yard. Algerson Senior unbelieving of the obvious witchcraft that enchanted the wildlife and very wood around them. But the coin was good and Lea...she could never turn down an offer to help. Algerson Junior had been much more helpful. Pointing them towards the source of the dark magic. His care for the workers (mostly trapped in webs, cornered by twisted constructs of flesh and wood, or dead with hearts missing) more prevalent than his father’s obvious lack of compassion. 

Then they killed the witch causing the problem. 

_ “My husband’s exploitation of his workers will never end…” she croaked. The haggard face of a woman twisted with hate. Fingers stained black and limp hair mixed with wax. A locket tumbled from her torn robes. _

_ Algerson Senior came up behind them, mumbling about “taking it upon himself to solve the problem” and “idiot workers”. He took one long look at the scene. The dead witch bleeding between her bewitched ravens. Jespar and Lea panting, blades and armor stained black with tainted blood. Algerson ignored all of it when he stooped to take the locket that the witch wore around her neck. _

_ “That ungrateful wench!” _

_ Algerson Junior came jogging up then. He gasped and covered his mouth at the scene before turning to his father. Algerson Senior stared hard at the locket then spoke. _

_ “I wasn’t always the president of a successful lumber company, you know. I came from nothing! I started this business to support my wife and our family…” He paused, closed his eyes then threw the locket back at the dead witch. “My work is my life! Forget Petula, forget Benjamin, this is  _ my _ legacy. For her to turn to witchcraft to exact revenge against me….I don’t care that she’s dead. One fewer person to get in my way.” _

And then he turned on his heel and  _ walked away. _

_ “Justice knows no compromise. All that will matter is the choices you make and the legacy you leave behind, my son.” _

He shuddered. The rush of emotion he felt then. All that anger he did his damn best to shove and drown with booze and drug _ for years _ reared up in one ugly moment. It shouldn’t have. He’d did his best, he learned, he perfected his technique to _ not care _ . And then she came into his life and flipped it on its head. Over time he became aware that he’d softened up. At the time he didn’t mind. That was life, things change. “You never know which way the wind will blow.” He spilled his guts more to her than to anyone in his life. Even to Lysia. Another stab of guilt made him claw at his hair. 

He’d  _ hurt _ her. 

He didn’t mean to. She’d probably forgive him. So why did that make it hurt even more?

Ravens cawed above him. The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. Dread sunk his stomach. The forest around him seemed to darken and every crack and sway of wood sounded unnaturally loud. Someone, or  _ something, _ was watching him. 

He stood and attempted to get his bearings. The trees here weren’t green like in Tiragarde Sound. They were brown, orange and red. Like they were permanently stuck in autumn. This must be the area the locals called Drustvar. The Algerson lumberyard wasn’t that far from the border between the two. Yet he recognized no landmark. No post or road. He had just ran blindly to get away from the whole damn situation. 

Shit.

Shit. Shit.  _ Shit _ .

A howl, too close for comfort gave him the motive to start moving again. Damn it he  _ should not have run. _ He thought he was above that now. 

Another howl. Unnatural. High pitched. Made his skin scrawl and toes curl. He sped up and glanced behind him. Constructs of flesh and wood tailed behind him.

Guess not.


	10. You think this troubles me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal Warcraft AU  
> Follow-up to Day 9 in someone else's P.O.V.

“Why did he do that?”

The voice startled Lea. She’d watch Jespar flee, began to follow him until Algerson Junior grabbed her arm. She looked at him, opened her mouth and closed it several times but nothing came out. She shook her head and pulled away.

“Go back to the Lumber Yard, I’ll be right back.”

“But-”

She didn’t wait for his response but pelted at full speed into the forest.

He had a few minutes head start but she could still reach out with sensory magic and feel his aura. She could taste his panic.

“Jespar! Stop!”

She couldn’t see him. He was faster than she was and she could feel him getting farther and farther away. Blood dribbled into one of her eyes and she hastily wiped at it. The motion made her vision wobble and she cursed. Running with a head wound…when he pushed her back a second time she fell just right against a boulder to scrape her temple. _ Because of course that would be my luck _ . Her foot snagged on something and she went sprawling down a mossy hill. She groaned and lay on her stomach until most of the dizziness and pain ebbed away. She hauled herself up against a nearby tree then touched her head. Her hand came away wet and stained red. She shut her eyes and fought another wave of dizziness.

_ Stupid. Why did you run? Don’t you trust me? _

She tried to follow. She wandered the woods, tried to follow his trail but her magic could only reach so far. She wasn’t a full fledged mage. Maybe tracking him would have been easier if she was. She wasn’t an excellent tracker like he was either; eventually his boot prints were lost among the dirt paths and other animal prints and she couldn’t make heads or tails of the direction. She stopped against another tree and screwed her eyes shut, fighting back tears.  _ You shouldn’t have to run from me. _

She decided to backtrack. She knew the Norwington Estate was close by. A few weeks ago, her and Jespar went there for a little break to attend the Norwington Festival; a yearly event that hosted food, drink and an equestrian tournament.

She emerged from the forest and into a clearing. Her hunch was correct as she gazed upon the estate on a hill a couple miles ahead of her. She patched herself up and made the walk, thanking the Gods that no wildlife came out to attack her. When she arrived she asked the guards at the front gate if they’d seen Jespar pass by. Neither one heard or saw anything. One of the guards however, recognized her from the festival and sent her to the estate proper. Lord Norwington was overjoyed to see her. The mood quickly turned when she explained what had happened but he was quick to offer his assistance by sending scouts into the area. In the meantime, a nurse properly tended her head wound then Lord Norwington offered tea in his study. They made small talk while Lea rested though it did not take long for a scout to return, pale faced and wide-eyed.

“Drustvar?” Lea asked.

The scout nodded. The lad looked to be just hitting manhood. “That land is cursed milady. If he’s crossed the border, there’s no way he’s coming back out.”

“Yes, that will be enough for now,” Lord Norwington waved the scout away, leaving the two of them in silence. The Lord noted her crestfallen face and gently held of her hands in his own. “You know Mister Dal’Varek was one of my favorites in the tournament. I didn’t know him long, but he’s a clever man. If anyone can survive, it will be him.”

She smiled weakly in return. “Thank you for your kind words but that’s not what troubles me.”

He let go of her and poured her another cup. “What does my dear? There are talks of witches in Drustvar but even then those are rumors–”

She shook her head. “It’s not any external forces, if you catch my meaning…my lord.”

“Aldrius, my dear. I’m not too fond of titles outside of events.”

“Aldrius,” she corrected awkwardly. She hesitated and stared into her cup. It must have been a local brew, she didn’t recognize the smell or taste but it relaxed her aching muscles. She inhaled and set her jaw, “I’m confident I’ll find him and bring him back. What troubles me is how he  _ will be _ once he is safe.”

Aldrius nodded knowingly, “I see, I see. Now, I don’t need to know details but I will tell you this.” He leaned forward and smiled warmly. “Watching you two during the festival, I think you’ll have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen many a smitten man, been one myself to my dear wife, but none have I seen so strongly than what he feels for you.”

She blushed and drank from her tea, “He’s not one to be, er, ‘lovey dovey’ in public.”

“You don’t need to be showy in love, my dear. Just the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself around you says all. You were the envy of many young women, you know!” She drank more deeply from her cup but it didn’t curb the smile spreading on her face. He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. “Now, I think you’re fit for travel. Take my favorite horse, Rose, from the stables back to Boralus. You have a search to mount!”

********

Lea made one stop back at the Algerson Lumber Yard. Business seemed to be back to normal and many of the workers gave her a hearty wave or bow. Algerson Junior greeted her at the mill.

“We were so worried! Well I was, father cursed a storm after you left…did you find him?” Words tumbled quickly from his mouth. He blushed and scratched the back of his head.

She shook her head, “No, but I wanted to make sure everyone was well here.”

“As well as they can be after they’ve been ordered to work now that mother-I mean…the witch has been dealt with.” His shoulders sagged. “Father never told me what happened to mother. Just that she’d disappeared after one too many arguments. I assumed she went back to Boralus…”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Promise me you’ll continue to look after the workers?” Her voice was strained, almost pleading.

He drew back from her sudden question but nodded all the same. “I-y-yes of course milady!” She let go of him and turned to mount Rose. He paused then reached out to tap her shoulder. She held onto the saddle but turned to him expectantly.

He swallowed hard then said, “My father is a harsh man, even I get frustrated with him a lot, but…he’s not a bad man.”

“You don’t make a convincing argument,” she said sadly. “But keep your promise and it won’t matter. They’ll know who to rally behind in the end.”

“As long as he keeps to the numbers…probably.” Algerson Junior gave a small smile.

“Atta boy.”

  
  



	11. But I will never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: World of Warcraft   
> Legion - Argus campaign

The Vindicaar was a flurry of activity. After arriving on Argus, they made contact with the Army of the Light in their ship, the Xenedar. Until it got blown out of the atmosphere. Now, both Alliance and Horde soldiers were preparing for landfall. All the big names were shouting orders and organizing soldiers. Illidan Stormrage chief among them as he directed his Demon Hunters to spearhead their now-rescue mission for the Xenedar. Thaderes quickly left that gathering. He preferred different company though he was sure to be confronted about it later.

He dodged bodies to get to the front of the ship.

“Oi lad! Slow down!” Someone called from behind. Thaderes slowed his pace and inclined his head towards the voice.

“You know, if it had been Osha, you would have never caught up.”

Bobur, a dwarf, huffed beside him. His steps were heavy but sure. His beard brushed up against Thaderes’ side, coarse and thick. “Auch, I know! She should be up front with everyone else now.”

They continued in silence, winding their way up the walkways until they came to the front. A large viewport showed the devastated planet. Nothing but swaths of fel green except for the golden ship broken against a mountain face.

“Over here.” They veered to the left-most side of the port where a familiar figure gazed into the ruined landscape. She turned to them when they came close.

“There you are!” Osha was taller than most, even for a Draenei. She crept a few inches taller than Thaderes and simply towered over Bobur. Thaderes thought she smelled of sweet fruit and her magic always felt clean like pure spring water.

“What? We got lost, it’s a big ship.”

“Yet you haven’t run into anyone yet,” Bobur snorted.

“I may be blind but most people give me a wide berth to begin with.”

Osha sighed and motioned for them to follow. Groups of soldiers were already being sent planet side and their turn was coming up. Prophet Velen and Artificer Romuul oversaw the processes of landfall. Bobur adjusted the shield on his back as he stepped in between Osha and Thaderes. Thaderes kept still and his head forward. Osha nodded to the elder Draenei then to the Artificer. Romuul held up his hand and curled his fingers for a countdown.

5…4…3…

_ “Good luck and may the Light guide your path.” _

2…1…

The teleportation pulled at every fiber of his being and, for one moment, he felt weightlessness. Then boots hit the hard earth. He breathed in hot air and ash. There was a metallic taste to it and his body quickly adjusted to the toxic atmosphere. Another perk to the fel in his body. He tested his footing and sensed Osha and Bobur ahead of him. The teleportation had them on a ridge, that cleared around part of the mountain and towards the Valley where the Xenedar’s golden trail left. The gold sparkled against his spectral sight but green and red covered most of the rest. No one moved on. They simply stared out at the murky horizon. More soldiers materialized behind him. He heard their boots hit the ground, grunts of impact and gasps of surprise. He moved ahead of them to stand beside his friends and sucked in a breath.

It was Mardum all over again. The cloying sludge of fel. It’s corruption a sickly green disease spread over the landscape like spiderwebs.

“This was home once,” said Osha. Her voice trembled with emotion.

“Oh lass…I’m so sorry…” 

“Argus was beautiful. I will never forget its fields or the cities we built. Great crystal towers and observatories.  _ Our people _ …” She choked on tears, “These very mountains were once a treasure to climb and explore.” Thaderes felt anger radiating off of the woman in waves. Not anger. A deep hatred. “The Legion ends here.” Her voice steadied. ”We may never reclaim Argus. But we can prevent others from becoming it.” She turned on her hooves. Her magic vibrated around them.

“Come. We have demons to kill.”

  
  



	12. Who could do this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal  
> Pre-game set in Nehrim

Riots weren’t that common in Ostian. Every now and then slaves or uprisers against the Creator’s Temple would spring up but the Temple enforcers were quick to quash any rebellion.

This, though. This was something unlike anything Leanara had seen.

Sirius had found them an empty hovel for the night in the slums. All was well, as well as it could be anyway, when a resounding boom woke them from half-sleep. Lea was up in an instant, running out into the street and climbing their building to get a better look of what was going on from the rooftops.

“Sirius! Sirius come here!”

Many others exited their buildings and looked for the source of the noise. Sirius grunted as he climbed his way up to her.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!” She squinted against the dark horizon. Another boom made her flinch but she spotted an orange glimmer from the harbor. She crept to the edge of the roof. The orange glimmer turned to a blinking light that lit up the night sky. Horns sounded in the distance and more booms of cannonfire (it had to be that!) filled the usual quiet night.

“It’s coming from the harbor, it’s-”

A loud crack broke the quiet, different from the rumble of the booms and the light from a different, closer portion of the city blazed into a fury. The force of a closer explosion knocked her off of her balance and she fell. She just managed to clutch the edge of the roof and hang on to the thatch.

There was a pause then the city was in alarm. Bells resounded through the streets and all at once the slums were in a flurry of bodies and screams.

She couldn’t hang on for long and she dropped, hard, onto the dirt. People ran past her, knocked into her when she tried to stand. She pressed herself against the building.

“The revolution is at hand!” Someone screamed.

“The Creator’s Temple cannot hold us!” roared another.

Someone shoved her to the ground. The clang of metal and screams of dying men crept closer and closer through the slums. She crawled backwards. Feet and legs seemed to hit her from every angle and she yelped when someone shoved her again into a wall.

“Sirius?! Sirius! Where are you!?”

She could make out the guards trying to fight through the clotted street. They tore through the bodies like bloody linen. Rebel or poor it didn’t seem to matter. She knew many of the others hid rebels in the slums and in the flooded districts, her and Sirius helped smuggle a few, but it was getting everyone, everyone, killed!

Another gripped her arm and she began to struggle.

“Lea it’s me! C’mon we need to get out of here!” Sirius’ panicked face filled her vision.

They ran. They pushed against those trying to get at the soldiers. Others of like mind were trying to do the same as them. Some climbed the roofs, others fought with fist against any that stood in their way. Sirius led her by the hand through familiar alleys and out of the main arteries.

“They blew up the statue at the square! Someone said the rebels are attacking the palace!” Sirius panted. He yanked hard to avoid another wave of bodies and they slid into a crevice until they passed.

“W-what? Who would do something like that?!” She was almost afraid he would break her arm with how hard he pulled. Better a broken arm than dead she thought as they rounded another corner. The fighting became quieter and quieter the further they went to the fringe of the city.

Finally, after what felt like hours they stopped against the city’s wall. Lea fell to her hands and knees then looked back behind them. Horns and bells still rang through Ostian but they were fainter now. The fighting wouldn’t come further in if the palace was being attacked…they’d just try and stop those from getting in. Sirius collapsed beside her and they allowed themselves to rest.

Calming down, she realized she felt a shameful amount of satisfaction that someone blew up the statue of the Creator. The High Priests spewed their proclamations every day in front of that thing. _People are just the refuse of HIS creation_. It was only a matter of time until someone was going to shut them up.

She took her time to stand then gazed towards the city. If only it didn’t destroy everything around them.

“We’ll need to lay low for awhile. The guards will sweep the streets once the rioting stops…” said Sirius. There was no answer. “Lea? Hey are you listening?” He stood up and grabbed her shoulder.

“We need to get out of Ostian,” she said quietly, ”Out of Nehrim.”

“What?”

“I mean, if there are any ships left, we offer to join up and we get out of the city.” She turned to him, her yellow eyes shining bright in the dark.

“Are you insane? Even if there are ships still sailing after this madness, do you know how much that will cost?”

“Would you want to stay here? You know it’s only going to get worse,” she pleaded. “If we’re not starving, we’re dodging the guard or worse! There are talks of war coming to us…”

Sirius drew his mouth into a thin line.

“You know it as much as I do, we can’t stay here,” she finished quietly.

He sighed heavily and slid back down to his haunches. She sat beside him and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll try and work for the coin first,” he said finally, “where would we even go?”

“Take your pick I guess. I would love to go to Arazael…or Enderal. Any place away from here would suit me just fine.”

“Careful what you wish for…” he laughed weakly. He laid his head on top of hers. The clamor of the rioting still went on in the city proper but for now…they were safe.

  



	13. Try harder, next time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Skyrim   
> Featuring Bishop from the Skyrim Romance Mod

She drew her bowstring. The backs of her fingers stroked her cheek and she focused on the target ahead. They were “borrowing” one of the dummies the Companions used in Jorrvaskr. Since Maesa was a member, she had access to its facilities, much to the chagrin of Bishop who kept glaring at Vilkas at Farkas on their way in.

It was a simple and suggestive offering to see who could shoot better.

Maesa preferred dual-wielding sabers but she’d learned the basics and knew how to hunt for her next meal. Bishop was the skilled ranger who claimed to have hunted trolls as a boy. Really, it was a chance to show him up provided she could get some  _ leverage _ on him.

She let the arrow fly and it hit the target’s painted center dead on. She let out a whoop and turned to Bishop with a swish of her hips.

“How’s that Ranger?”

He harrumphed and rolled his shoulders. He also made it a point to eye her curves with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Not bad for a girl.” He readied his bow and arrow. “But stand back Princess. I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

She thought of distracting him some more. A little cleavage if she adjusted her tunic, or a sway of her hips again towards him. She also thought about yelling at him (that was all too tempting at any time of the day with him)…but that would be too easy. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t usually get to see him flaunt his skill. She was too busy attacking enemies head on while he covered her flank in battle.

And of course he was making a show of himself. He drew the string to its full length, stood tall and broad as his muscles rippled beneath his dark tunic ( _ Ass _ …). He breathed in then out, his golden eyes lighting up as he sized up his target. The makeshift dummy had one arrow nestled at its center. Let’s see if there will be two.

He glanced at her, eyes crinkling as he smirked and let go of the arrow. It whistled then struck. When he turned to look his smirk evaporated quickly into surprise. She followed his gaze and saw the arrow didn’t land on the target…but stuck itself in the rock wall behind it.

“That uh…that doesn’t usually happen…” he mumbled. He looked at her and saw she was smirking at him with arms crossed under her bust.

“Guess you need to try harder next time, huh Ranger?”

He stared, whether out of disbelief or anger she couldn’t really tell. He turned on his heel and stalked off to grab the arrows. She burst out laughing and called after him, “Hey! What do I win?!”

He turned to her, the glare turning into a feral grin, “I don’t know ladyship. I can think of a few things.”

Aaaaand there it was. She rolled her eyes at him. “Buy me some sweet rolls?”

“Didn’t you have a couple already before we left the inn? You’re going to get fat off of those things.”

“Are you calling me fat!?” she bristled.

“I should! That many sweet rolls in one day is gonna soften up all those curves you’ve got.”

“You have some nerve, you bastard!”

He laughed in her face.  _ Well damn _ . So much for showing him up.

  
  



	14. Some people call this wisdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

“I’m surprised someone of your standing is with me right now.”

Calia gave the silver-haired mercenary an upraised eyebrow.

“I’m sorry?”

“Keeper Sakaresh right?”

“Yes?”

“Most of your kind don’t take too fondly to mine. Only you and our Prophetess don’t seem to mind my company.”

Calia sighed and shook her head. She’d only met Mysir Dal’Varek once before, just after she and the Prophetess became Keepers, and hadn’t been sure what to make of him. She’d seen him around the Sun Temple only recently on behest of Master FIrespark but she, like always, kept to herself. And it wasn’t like she’d came to him today; quite the opposite. The Grandmaster called another meeting but they just happened to cross paths on their way to the Sun Temple. And instead of walking quietly side by side, he apparently did his best to pull conversation she didn’t want with him.

“I see…”

“Not very talkative are you?” His eyes glinted with a kind of mischief a cat would have with a toy mouse. At least he seemed friendly and didn’t regard her with disdain like everyone else. At least not at first. There was a slight hesitation when the Prophetess introduced them the first time but it was quickly replaced with that friendly smile. When she didn’t answer, he spoke up again.

“So…why do you think we’ve been called?” he asked.

They crossed the threshold into the Sun Temple. There was an unusual amount of bustle with Novices and Keepers crossing the courtyard. Some were shouting, others were passing messages, and some were carrying steel up to the Overlook. Calia started weaving through the bodies with Jespar on her heels.

“We can cut through the Sanctum into the Emporium. Looks like construction for the Beacon started,” she mused. They veered to the left and hurried through the nearest set of double doors.

“The Beacon? Sounds awfully poetic to the problem.”

“Hm.” 

When they were inside, they slowed their pace ascending the stairs into the prayer area of the Sanctum.

“And to answer your question…I don’t know.” In truth, she really didn’t. But why not humor him? “The Beacon probably? There’s also talk that Nehrimese soldiers have been spotted to the South. Maybe you’ve heard?”

“Hm.”

They walked up the aisle, a large statue of Malphas stood dramatically before them. Her…annoyance with him ebbed in the statue’s presence. Second to the bathhouse, praying here always gave her a sense of a calm. She glanced back at him but he wasn’t looking at her.  She saw the furrow in his brow and she whispered, “What’s wrong?”

When he didn’t answer, she looked around the room. Those that were praying now noticed them making their way towards the door to the Emporium…and glared at them. More so at him than her.

“Some people just don’t know their place.” someone muttered, just loudly enough for them to hear.

“I-I’m sorry, maybe bringing you through here was a bad idea…” She ushered him quickly through the door. She really didn’t need more drama with him around. “Only those in the Order are usually allowed in but-”

“No, I appreciate the shortcut,” he shrugged and he smiled again. One that didn’t reach his eyes. “Kind of bold to take me through that though.”

She wasn’t sure if he was mocking or genuine in the observation. In all honesty, she was just trying to avoid the large clusters of people. Perhaps it was inevitable she would have to interact with him in an awkward manner. It happened with the Prophetess afterall.

They were on the balcony of the Emporium and could make out some of the people at the war table below. Before they could go down, however, Jespar spoke.

“I know I don’t fit into the pretty mold the Order likes to keep but,” he glanced down at the Grandmaster at the head of the table, “it’s been kind of fun.”

Now it was Calia’s turn to furrow her eyebrows, “You think the possible end of our existence is fun?” She couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice.

“It definitely keeps things less boring,” he shrugged, “Live every day like it’s your last, Keeper. If it’s going to end, might as well make the best of it.”

“You should be taking this seriously…” She wondered why the Nehrimese mages would hire him. None of the Keepers would that was for sure. But the answer came as easily as the mischief in his eyes, the easy smile and lax stance with his arms crossed over his chest. Like he said, he didn’t fit the mold and they needed people like that if this was going to work.

“I am taking it as serious as it needs to be,” he said simply.

_Still._ She met his gaze sternly. There was a defensiveness to him now, as if he was tempting her to say anything further about it.

“Calia? Jespar?”

They turned their heads to the new voice. Lea poked her head out from the staircase leading to the war table.

“Sa’ira-”

“Fair Lady-”

“The Grandmaster is getting ready to start, coming down?” Her voice was light and she pointedly looked between the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

They looked between each other then back at her. Jespar was the first to move, grinning and moving with purpose as if nothing had happened.

“Of course! Can’t keep our illustrious leader waiting.”

Calia followed quietly behind them and watched. He kept an arm atop Lea’s chair during the war meeting. Spoke casually in response to her. Regarded her higher than anyone else in the room with attention. Calia made up her mind then, that if he wouldn’t listen regarding their mission, then he would regarding their Prophetess.


	15. I thought you had forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

It was rare for Jespar to be awake before Lea. He woke catching his breath and unsure of where he was at first. It was a wonder he didn’t disturb the body next to him. Before they became…this, she would always be awake before him. Usually, she would clean their weapons and armor, or prepare a small breakfast, or write in that little black book she always carried. Whatever it was, she always greeted him with a small smile whenever they were together.

He looked out the window. Still dark. It took him a moment to adjust to the near silence of her home rather than the din of the Nomad. It was their first night together since returning from the Star City. It wasn’t however the first time he’d spent the night in her home. She offered her house to him, and Calia, as a refuge away from…everyone else. He had fuzzy memories spending nights in her guest bedroom nursing hangovers.

She snuggled close against his side, heavy breaths tickling his chest. He carefully untangled her arms around him and sat up on the edge of the bed. It was the quiet that unnerved him the most. It was supposed to be peaceful, a time to gather your thoughts and reflect. He closed his eyes and saw her body mangled by the steel dragon. He suppressed the urge to laugh. It was always her that woke from violent nightmares. And for the first time in…well. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so peaceful in sleep. The crease in her brow was gone, mouth slightly parted in a light snore rather than the usual whimpering. He lifted the blankets to look at her form, more specifically the jagged scar that lined her left hip. He reached out and traced the new, rough skin. She shivered and curled around his touch.

Calia’s healing bought enough time for their escape from the Star City but the Apothecarius that took care of them afterwards said the wound would leave a large scar. She was lucky to be alive, they said. He thanked Calia several times over. Her response was a tired smile and a reassurance that Lea meant just as much to her as she did to him.

He slipped from the bed and padded to a nearby dresser. He’d been wanting to give this to her, silly really…He opened the bottom drawer and moved the extra blankets she kept there.

She had little of her own. Despite the small house being nestled near the smithy in the Market District, it was more of a small library than a home. It carried all the necessities one needed but little to personal effects. Books made up most of her stuff. Many shelves lined the walls with books that would impress any Qyranian librarian. Where the hell she found the time to read it all he didn’t know. A part of him felt satisfaction for giving her some of her first books when they first met and liked to believe he fostered her habit.

He lifted the small package, simply wrapped and tied in linen, and padded back to the bed. He’d wanted to give this to her sooner. He unwrapped the linen, opened the box and held up a bone pendant. He surmised it was the jawbone of a small animal and it was painted with intricate black swirls and dots along the ridge. The fact he managed to hide this for so long wasn’t too surprising. It was originally broken during their fight with Firespark in the Living Temple. Then she left it with…herself, no the _illusion_ of herself, further in and didn’t look back. He didn’t question it but always spotted her touching the place where the pendant used to rest. He wasn’t intimate with Arazalean culture compared to others, but items like this were sacred to the Free Peoples. He should know. He stole a totem from one the tribes many years ago and paid dearly for it with his face. Lea was always adamant about learning her origins and held the pendant as her most prized possession because it was from her _Arazalean mother_. When she left it behind, she ceased learning.

He held the cord mid-halt and realized how absurd this was. He’d taken it after she turned away, for what, by the wise hermit, he had no idea _why_ he acted on such an impulse. When they returned to Ark, he had the pieces restored and boxed up only to be hidden away until he could work up the courage to offer it. Then… _that_ …happened afterwards with Adila and he’d nearly forgotten about it. And then there was just trying to give it to her. She left it behind for a reason. She didn’t share that with him but he figured she cut ties with her past. Just like he would have done. Just as he _had_ done. Doing this, it shouldn’t bother him _but it did_ because it was _her_. Not him.

Blazes, when did he become so soft?

He didn’t see her wake and reach for him. Her groggy voice startled him to nearly tossing the damn thing.

“Jespar?”  She sat up, rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Is it-is it morning?”

“Not yet. Can’t sleep?” He carefully kept the pendant from her view.

“I should be asking that of you. You’re usually dead to the world once you fall asleep.”

He snorted and cleared his throat, “That hurts Lea, but no I’m fine. I just-” Just what? Fuck, he didn’t think this through. Never seemed to with her.

“What’s that you’re holding?” She scooted closer, pulling the blankets with her to cover herself.

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He closed it and instead held out the pendant.

Yellow eyes went wide with disbelief. “Is that?” She reached for the pendant and traced the patterns on the bone. There were cracks intersecting the patterns but she revelled that the pieces were holding together regardless. “How did, where–I thought you forgot–where did you- _why?_ ”

The doubt he felt doubled and twisted in his gut. It was the same feeling he had on the Starship. Step too far and you’ll fall hard. “I don’t know. It just seemed…wrong to leave it there. And I knew some people-”

He didn’t finish. She collided into him with a bone-crushing hug and topped it with a hard kiss.

They parted, leaving him breathless and grinning despite himself, “Does that mean you like it?” It was becoming difficult to focus with her naked form pressed against him. The next kiss tasted of salt and he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“If I said yes, how much of that will go to your head?” She sidled into his lap, sniffling and hastily shooed his hands away to wipe her own tears.

The doubt vanished in that instant and a pleasant sense of déjà vu fell over him. “Probably a lot.” He took the pendant and tied the cord around her neck. He liked the view of her with just the pendant probably a little too much. “You’re never going to let this go though, are you?”

She twirled the pendant with her fingers and smiled, “Never. Jespar Dal’Varek a romantic? Still…I felt unworthy that I let this go.”

“I think…” he swallowed. He was never good with this stuff. A broken family was all he was familiar with. Even Adila was left behind. A mistake he tried and failed to fix and for a split second, a pang of jealousy ran through him. Her mother would be proud. She was a person worth being proud of. If anyone was unworthy, it was him. _Fuck_.

Hands on his cheeks brought him out his metal spiral. He became acutely aware of the warm breath against his face, the sweet smell of juniper berries in the soap she used to bathe with, her chest pressed against his. She kissed him again softly.

“I know.”


	16. This is going to be fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Varric didn’t want to assume…but he really hoped that what he walked into was exactly what it was.

Hawke was splayed, wearing only her smalls, on the floor. Merril lay nearby, also in her smalls, curled up and hugging, what he assumed, was the Halla statue Hawke had given her some time ago…Isabela, _by Andraste’s tits_ , he quickly looked away from her naked form. The only one who had some semblance of dignity was Aveline. She wasn’t in her smalls but she snored loudly from underneath Hawke’s desk, nursing a couple of empty bottles.

The absurd scene was further enhanced by: various shaped bottles littering the floor and table (he swore they probably raided a winery), clothes (some of them men’s clothes, he noted, as a pair of trousers swung from the chandelier) were scattered on every piece of furniture, and…nugs. Lots and lots of nugs. When he first entered the mansion, he’d heard squeaking but wasn’t expecting a zoo of the little abominations to be freely roaming the halls. Now he realized that Merril wasn’t hugging the Halla statue, but one of the nugs that was sleeping peacefully in her arms.

He carefully tiptoed around the bodies, bottles and nug shit then squatted by Hawke. _Too bad Broody isn’t here to see this_ , he mused. He gently shook the mage awake. She moaned and turned over away from him, curling into a tight ball. A nearby nug hopped over and stuck its wet nose into Hawke’s face. She groaned again and pushed the little rat away, turning back to Varric with bleary eyes.

“Good morning Waffles.”

Hawke looked miserably up at him. The hangover she was experiencing must be something awful. She looked several shades of green.

“So…girl’s night out go well?” he asked lightly.

“‘This is going to be so much _fun_ ,’ she said. ‘It will be a night to _remember_ ’ she said.” The more she spoke the angrier she got. Not that it looked menacing since she couldn’t pick her head off of the floor.

“Did you have fun?” Varric asked, doing his absolute best not to laugh at her.

“Fuck _you_ and _fuck Isabela_. The next time I see her…” she didn’t finish as the nug from earlier tried nuzzling her neck.

“Well don’t look now but she’s very naked on top of Sandal’s enchanter.” And he didn’t want to know how she contorted her body to fit on it in the brief moments he looked.

Hawke grabbed the nug and hugged it to her chest. The little rat squeaked and shit into her arms. Varric couldn’t contain himself then. Though much to his disdain afterwards, he helped the ladies, _much later_ that day, clean the mess up.


	17. I'll tell you but you're not gonna like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal Warcraft AU  
> Part 3 that follows up Chapters 9 and 10.

Boralus was its usual bustle of traders and sailors when Lea returned. She made a beeline for the harbor and as expected she saw a familiar maul-wielding guardswoman at the port. Taelia greeted the Lea with a wide grin.

“There you are! Started to get worried you two got lost on the countryside…” the guard woman’s grin faltered as she noted Lea’s stricken face. “What? What’s wrong?” Then she noticed they were one silver head short. “And where’s your other half?”

“I’ll tell you,” Lea replied softly, “but you’re not going to like it.”

Lea replayed the events since leaving Boralus a few weeks ago. Her and Jespar were granted the break after they helped folks in Stormsong Valley and the lower area of Tiragarde Sound in an attempt to unite the nations under the Proudmoore Banner. If they got the backing of the Proudmoores, then the Proudmoores backed the Alliance against the Horde. A lengthy process but war had an uncanny ability to be lengthy and messy. She began with the Norwington Festival and ended at the Algerson Lumberyard and the witch haunting it. She hesitated about Jespar’s flight to Drustvar and spoke in hushed whispers to Taelia when they rounded the stairs into the Harbormaster’s Office.

A handsome, red-headed man in a long trench coat greeted them from within the office. His face lit up in a bright smile upon seeing the two women.

“Leanara my darling! Back from vacation so soon?” Flynn Fairwind greeted her with one open arm; the other being cast in a sling. His smile was dazzling and his eyes wandered for the same figure Taelia asked for earlier. “And where is my favorite drinking buddy, eh?”

Lea’s shoulders sagged. Taelia gave him a shrewd look and he backed off sheepishly.

“Not here then?” Flynn asked with an awkward laugh.

********

Lea, Taelia, Flynn, and Harbormaster Cyrus Crestfall, a large man with a bushes of greying hair on his head and chin, gathered around a map of Kul’Tiras. Cyrus arrived an hour later into the office and Lea repeated for a third time what happened to Jespar.

“You were both bound for Drustvar, regardless, to find the Waycrests,” Cyrus grunted, “Now you just have more reason to venture further.”

“Things in Kul’Tiras are starting to look up since we overthrew Ashvane.” Taelia piped up, “And I’ve been keeping contact with Brother Pike in Stormsong Valley, while we can’t call the fleet back without blessing from the Proudmoore Admiralty, he’s making sure they’re still safe out in open waters until we finish rallying our banners.”

“Yes, that’s all well and good but our last backer has mysteriously stopped checking in,” warned Flynn, “The hardy Waycrest family ruled over Drustvar for centuries so it’s weird that they’ve up and vanished-”

“And that’s why we were going to send the best,” Taelia continued giving Flynn hard looks. Much to his chagrin, he shut up when he glanced at Lea who remained woefully silent through the whole ordeal.

“She’s still one of the Alliance’s best, mate, we can attest to that, you knooow,” Flynn elbowed Cyrus with his unslung elbow.

The Harbormaster rolled his eyes and sighed audibly. “ _Fairwind._ ” Flynn backed off again with a grin and flourish of his hand. “Now, finding Lord and Lady Waycrest must be your first priority,” he gazed apologetically at Lea, “but something tells me you’ll find Dal’Varek along the way. You’ll take the ferry into Drustvar and meet with Cyril White. He’s a friend of the house and should point you in the right direction.”

He straightened and nodded to them, “Duty calls. Taelia, Fairwind,” he tipped his head to Lea, “Ma’am. You have your assignments. For Kul’Tiras.”

_“For Kul’Tiras.”_

Once the Harbormaster left, Taelia gave Lea another apologetic look, “I’m sorry I can’t go with you this time. Cyrus wants me here to help organize the guard against any more Ashvane supporters and Flynn, well…”

“Still out of commission I’m afraid. The pirates in Freehold had got me good, even when your man came and rescued me from the Ring of Booty.” He chortled at the name of the gladiator ring. “Despite all my healing and terrible tasting potions, they have me on light duty. But don’t you worry darling! If I find anything out from my contacts, you’ll be the first to know.” His smile was contagious and Lea couldn’t help but smile sadly in return.

They filed out one by one and as Lea headed for the ferry to take to Drustvar, Flynn stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He craned his head to see if anyone was looking their way then relaxed. “I’m sure you’ve heard enough condolences from everyone,” he began, “but if anyone can survive storming a gladiator ring to save yours truly–I mean we had disguises and everything at first–and there was a terrible hazing process before we–I mean _I_ got caught–”

“ _Flynn_.”

“Right, right…” he sighed and gently squeezed her shoulder, “My point is, he’s like me. A survivor. And we’ve had worse odds.”

“Nothing dampens your spirits do they?”

“Oh quite a few things do! Sirens, pirates, backstabbing first-mates…”

She giggled. It was enough to earn her another dazzling smile and bow from the former pirate.

“When you do find him…tell him I promise to pay him for the tab I’ve racked up.”

“You’ve been buying under his name? How much is the tab?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Does he know?”

“Well…”

“Oh blazes Flynn…”

“Trust me, it’ll be the least bad news he’s heard all week once you find him.”


	18. You should have seen it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

_“Myrads are quite dangerous when wild and quite useful when tamed.”_

Lea rolled out the way of the Myrad’s hind claws. It bellowed an angry roar. Sand swept in wild tornados from its wings. She went tumbling down the hill from its nest. Hot sand mingled with its icy breath as the Myrad descended once more. The large creature was a beautiful and terrifying mix of flared feathers and muscle when it soared and swooped above her.

_Wild Myrad horns spiraled out longer and had more jagged turns to them then tamed Myrads._ She didn’t know why she noticed that when the Myrad landed atop its nest. It craned its large, four-eyed head to her and snarled in warning. She knew she bruised her legs and side from frantically dodging the creature over jagged rocks and sand. She still sprang to her feet and backed away with her hands downturned at her sides.

_How does someone tame a Myrad?_ One of the handlers at the Myrad Tower in Ark told her that tamed Myrads and their services were a rarity many years back. Now the creatures were common in their service and the handler sighed that he feels he’s not held in higher regard. The work required kept them on their toes all hours of the day. She can understand that now the further she backed away from the Myrad. It continued to stare and growl but it did not pursue her. She kept her eyes downturned but dared not turn her back just yet.

_The Myrad in Riverville was injured, so she and Jespar had to walk to Ark._ The creature’s hide was covered in feathers varying in shades of tan, gold and brown. The one in Frostcliff Tavern had a lovely white sheen to its coat. The hide underneath must not be too tough if it has to be suspended in air for so long. Thicker hide meant more weight. Not that the beast wasn’t already heavy enough. And the sheer power in its wings! Carry a man or two along with itself?

_Myrads communicate through clicking sounds and are hard to hear for those untrained._ It did a lot of growling and roaring but the further she backed away, she heard something else. It was harder to hear but she swore she heard three distinctive clicks. Sort of like someone smacking their lips but in this case the Myrad undulated its head three times. Then it rose onto its hind legs and spread its wings. Fearing it would make a final dive, she sprinted to a familiar door nearly hidden in the rock and sand and slammed it shut behind her.

_“Prophetess? Is everything alright?”_

A Keeper and some workers looked at the woman with surprise. She must look like a mess of sand and windswept clothing. The biggest smile in who knows how long spread across her face. In the dim light of the Starling Workshop she breathed in wonder of her encounter.

_“You should have seen it! A Myrad! A wild Myrad!”_


	19. Oh please, like this is the worst I've done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Skyrim  
> Features Bishop from the Skyrim Romance Mod.

She wanted to be upset. She really, _really_ wanted to shout this stupid, stubborn, ass of a man off the nearby cliff. She opened her mouth to start berating him then the dragon they slew a few seconds earlier burst into flame and ash. She felt the familiar rush of power encasing her like a hot torrent of flame. She staggered, grit her teeth, then marched to the Ranger that lay bleeding on the ground.

Kawnwyr, Bishop’s faithful wolf companion, whimpered beside his master and nudged Bishop’s hand with his nose.

“I’m fine, I’m fine you mutt. You had me worried there, the dragon almost burnt your tail off!”

Bishop sat up with a pained groan and checked the ruined portion of his armor. His right shoulder had a nasty gash, though none too deep. Thankfully the pauldron he kept on it took the brunt of the damage, otherwise Maesa was sure the dragon would have sheared the arm off. Instead the pauldron lay in a torn heap somewhere in the wilds and the gash bled freely between Bishop’s black leathers.

Measa took the opportunity to slap the man hard across the cheek. Bishop snarled and snapped his head back, gold eyes flashing dangerously. “What the _fuck,_ wench?! Don’t ever do that again!”

“Well what the _fuck_ were you thinking?” She refused to touch his wound which only pissed the Ranger off even more as he held the wound to staunch some of the bleeding.

“Trying to save your ass, as always, _Dragonborn!_ ” He clenched his teeth in pain and tried to stand. She shoved him back, eliciting another snarl. “ _Don’t._ ”

“Sit still so I can fix it,” she snapped. “So leaving your ass in the way of a dragon’s dive was your idea of saving mine?”

“If it meant getting its attention so it didn’t swallow you whole, then yes! Or tumble off the damn cliff that you are so prone to doing, Princess.”

She shoved a potion into his hands for him to drink then focused on cleaning the wound. Bishop gulped the red liquid down and chucked the bottle at a nearby tree. The motion caused Maesa’s hand to slip and prod the meaty portion of the wound.

“Dammit wench! Watch what you’re doing!”

“I said sit still!” She snapped again. “And throwing bottles while I’m working is generally not a good idea.”

“Oh please Princess, like this is the worst I’ve done.” He snorted and, for once, sat rigid to let her work.

She handed him another potion and set to stitch the skin together. Some bandages and time for the potions to take effect would leave him good as new. Relatively anyway.

“I’d hate to see what the worst can possibly be.”

“Letting you heal me might be one.”

“Fuck you.”

“Already have Princess.”


	20. I hope you have a speech prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal  
> The dialogue in italics is the speech Tealor Aranthael gives during the final segments of the game.

The Sun Temple was still for several, long moments. Shouts and clangs of metal were heard below as soldiers invaded the city. Many of the novices clung to each other and Keepers looked to Grandmaster Arantheal who watched an injured Keeper shiver violently from tremors and loss of blood.

“We thought what we did was right…to protect us….Please don’t let me die a traitor…please…”

He stared hard at the woman but nodded curtly at her. “You won’t. I forgive you.” He turned to the nearest mage and had her carried away to be treated. With a raised hand everyone who remained on the premises gathered before the fountain at the courtyard, with their Grandmaster at the center. He held his chin high, stood rigid against the rising flames and growing wind.

_“You all know what has happened. We were betrayed by our own brothers and sisters. As I speak people are dying, slaughtered by the Nehrimese who think we are the enemy. And I know what you are feeling right now. You feel anger, anger aimed at those in our ranks who did this to us.”_

Calia found her first. Lea remained rooted to the spot just below the overhang that covered the steps to the Overlook. She stared past Calia and Aranthael into nothing. If Calia crossed her vision, she doubted she would see her. Instead, she reached for her hand and squeezed. Lea squeezed back and leaned her body heavily against Calia. Specs of blood colored her cheeks and armor. That would explain the dead Keepers by the Beacon. Crazed when their protection was given up to the man now leading a raid on the city.

_“But you are wrong. Despite their deed, they wanted to protect us, to fulfill their Holy Duty. And the same applies to Coarek and his soldiers. Yes, they are deluded, yes, they have committed crimes past redemption, but they too, only did what they thought was right. If there is someone to blame in all this, it’s the High Ones and no one else.”_

Jespar found them second. He’d barely made it back into the Sun Temple before chaos broke loose in the city. Keepers raised their blades against him and they screamed at each other before the Archmagister permitted him to enter. He skirted the crowd around the Grandmaster and saw the two woman leaning against each other, hand in hand. Calia saw him first and gestured with her open hand to come closer. He took her hand then grabbed Lea’s, threading his fingers with hers. Lea shifted and leaned into both of them, head bowed on their shoulders.

_“They, brothers and sisters, they are the ones responsible. They have no mind, no compassion, no soul, and their only reason for existing is to destroy. They are cowards who act out of the shadows, and play us against each other like puppets on strings. And right now, they think they have won. They think they can defeat us. But they will fail because we are still here. We have the Beacon, the only thing capable of stopping all of this madness, and that is exactly what we are going to do!”_

Lea squeezed her eyes shut. She focused hard on their breathing. Calia’s controlled, counted breaths. Jespar’s harder, shaky gusts disturbing her hair. Her own a faint huff as her heart refused to slow. Jespar’s favorite, heady tobacco smell intermixed with Calia’s armor polish and jasmine. Jespar traced circles on the back of one hand with his thumb. Calia methodically squeezed the other every few seconds. Both of their hands trembled in hers. 

_“After that, you are free to go. Flee, fight, do whatever you think is best. I myself will surrender…because every drop of blood spilled after we have done our duty and destroyed the High Ones is useless. And even if the Nehrimese kill me, my death will be a sign…A sign that people like Coarek will never understand.”_

She whispered for them to flee with her when all was said and done. Jespar nodded immediately and pressed his nose against the top of her head. Calia continued to tremble in their grips but she slowly nodded against Lea’s cheek. Lea hoped that gave Calia some solace in her inner battle. Fight then flee to live that life and go dancing at a colorful tavern in Kile. Lethonia awaited the rest. Jespar saw most of the world already, but forging their own path would be worth it if they survived. And _that_ would be a sign to show, not only Coarek, but to the rest of Vyn.

_“Hatred breeds hatred. This is what history has taught us, and this is what makes the High Ones strong. Stand by me when the time comes, or go - but until then, fight. May his light guide you all.”_

Cheers arose against the screams of the dying. Lea heard Aranthael’s heavy and purposeful foot falls come towards them. The three of them refused to move even when he stood a mere arms length away from their circle. She imagined they looked weird to him. She did not think he understood. But that would be okay. If he was going to throw his life away to be a martyr, she wouldn’t get to deal with him anymore. And for both of them, that was just fine.

“Prophetess, come speak to me in the Emporium.” He spoke softly. She couldn’t see his face but it was apparent he did not wait for an answer when his steps retreated away from them.

Calia pulled away first, squeezed their hands a final time, then walked towards a cluster of guards. Jespar lingered, kissed her head, then let go. They said nothing but she watched him leave to look out the fiery veranda.

She willed her feet to move but they would not. She let the tears fall now, while everyone was occupied, and balled her hands into fists. _Why delay the inevitable?_ She breathed in, then out. She relaxed her hands and took a step forward.

_The Light will burn you. It will devour you and all that you try to save. Why delay the inevitable, Prophetess?_


	21. Impressive, truly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original  
> An experiment with writing in a POV I've never done before.

The arcane orb flared, grew, then petered out into a wisp of purple lines and smoke. Sweat beaded off the girl’s brow as she lowered her shaking hands. She could never manage to keep the orb more than a few seconds and it frustrated her that the other students could hold it for more than five minutes. It wasn’t fair! What was she doing wrong?

“Impressive, truly,” one of the boys beside her sneered. His violet orb remained afloat by his head. “That was what? Two whole seconds?”

She stamped her foot and glared angrily at the orb by his head, “Leave me alone so I can concentrate!”

“Leave me alone so I can concentrate,” the boy mimicked in an overly dramatic, squeaky voice. Other students snickered beside him. All had varying sized orbs.

“Stop it!”

_“Stop it!”_

She stamped her foot again, magic flared from the impact. A familiar rush of energy flooded her limbs. Suddenly, she felt like she could make a hundred-no a thousand orbs at once! Violet energy swirled around her and the boy suddenly looked terrified.

“H-hey stop that! You’re going to get in trouble!”

“Stop that!” she mimicked, feeling pleased as the boy’s face drained of all color. Her other classmates turned to her and backed away quickly against the walls.

It was like opening a huge dam. The rush made her feel strong. Like she could do anything! Like show this stupid boy she could cast magic just as well as he could! She’ll show him! Several violet orbs materialized around her. They vibrated with energy and varying, bright shades of purple.

Suddenly, it was too much. She felt nauseous and her limbs began to hurt. Someone screamed and pointed at her. _Make it stop!_ Someone else screamed. Maybe it was her. She didn’t know, just that everything was now hurting! More violet energy encased her body and she couldn’t see the boy in front of her anymore. Just a purple haze and red outlines of the other children in the room with her. The red flared like skittering fire in a strong wind. Suddenly the largest outline in front of her flared wildly, filling her vision….then went out.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

She fell to her knees. The haze lifted and she took deep, hiccupping breaths. The rush was gone, the dam empty. She tasted copper and salt. Tears ran down her face in rivulets like the blood from her nose. Other students were crying and huddling together in the farthest corners away from her.

When she managed to open her eyes, the orbs were gone and the boy lay face up on the floor. His eyes and mouth were wide open, permanently stuck in a silent scream of terror. His pallor was pale as paper with a faint, violet tinge coloring the veins underneath the skin.

“What did you do?” She heard someone ask from behind.

She wailed, eyes wide with shock and more tears. “I don’t know! I didn’t mean it!” She reached for the boy but someone pulled her back.

“Take her to the headmaster. Do it now! And someone cover the damn body!”

She continued to scream and wail as someone dragged her from the classroom. She didn’t mean it. She only wanted to scare him. She didn’t mean it.


	22. I know how you love to play games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

She saw him switch the cards. She _swore_ when he put his hands on his cards, he switched one. Before, he had two Archers and a Priest. 6-6-3. That made the total strength of his cards was 15. But now, instead of two Archers, he only had one and The Seraph card had taken the other’s place. 6-8-3 for a total of 17. It was cleverly done, she thought, because he attempted to straighten them after he drew them for her to see.

“I thought you had two Archers. Not one,” she said suspiciously and leaned over the table.

The game was Battle for Treomar. The goal was to have a higher value of cards than your opponent. Each drew three cards with values from 1 to 10. The catch? You could attempt to “fraud” and replace a card without the other noticing. If one noticed (and for Jespar, _prove_ ) that the other was cheating, money was offered for the catch.

Jespar raised his eyebrows in surprise, “No, it was just the one.” He opened his hands so that they were spread, palms up, outside of his three cards. “Archer, Seraph and Priest.”

The open palms were an invitation. One Lea took many times that night already to check his sleeves. She reached, fingers gliding over his palm, then dug into the loose fabric of his white shirt. She traced his wrists, felt a rise in his pulse, the hair that began to line the rest of his arms. Disappointed she felt nothing out the ordinary, _again_ , she pulled her hands back. He caught them, making her jump.

He grinned ear-to-ear at her, “Are you really checking that I’m cheating? Or this an excuse to continue touching me?”

They’d been drinking, naturally, but she knew it wasn’t enough for clouded thoughts. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was another tactic in the game to make her forget he _was_ cheating. She knew it. He knew it. The glint in his sea-blue eyes gave him away…but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from them either. He wasn’t even holding her hands tightly. She could pull away at any time she wanted.

“It-it had to be from your sleeves, there’s no other way-”

“No other way you know of.” His voice dropped low and she saw another emotion flash in his eyes. Victory.

She set her jaw to ignore the heat in her cheeks.

He leaned in, “I think you owe me another hundred pennies, my fair lady.”

Finally, she pulled her hands back, internally mourning the loss of his warm hands, and pouted at the cards on the table. His 17 against her 16 total.

“You had two Archers…”

He laughed and took the pennies that were set in the middle of the table.

“At least,” he said cheerfully for his newly acquired wealth, “you have better luck with Morala’s Dice.”


	23. This is not new, it only feels like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

There was no sun this time. No birds or quiet rustle of trees on a breeze. No blinding mess of color to assault her senses. No dread. No apprehension.

Rain fell steadily against her hot skin. A cool salve that drenched her clothes and plastered her hair. The air was clean, not cloying with flowery pollen that lined the path up to the house. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

She climbed the gravel path. No statues embedded into the mountainside. Plain grey mountainous terrain surrounded by grey, fluffy clouds that lit up with the occasional bolt of lightning.  No horses by the burnt house. No smoke from its husk. Only sodden wood and ash.

With the house in view, now suffering from wood rot, she slowed. No clothes on the line. The wood axe buried in its stump next to the porch. The front door was closed but she knew she didn’t have to go in there anymore. Instead she stopped at four graves lining the front of the porch. Four, very plain headstones with one name on each.

Mommy. Daddy. Sister.

_Me._

She kneeled in front of her grave and placed her hands against its face. The grit of the stone stuck to her fingers when she traced little patterns into it. Nonexistent patterns that mimicked the ones on her pendant. She reached with one hand to the pendant tied around her neck and smiled. Somehow, in the chaos of the living, it survived.

She turned around, sat, stretched her legs, and leaned back.

All was calm. She felt tired but the good kind she knew that, with rest, would pass. She didn’t want to be sad. Just that she did all she could. An ache settled in her chest for all the dreams that would remain. She thought of him and the ache grew. But she wanted it to be a good ache. One that meant that everything as she left it would right itself and that _someone_ would remember.

She closed her eyes and focused on each drop of water that fell on her face. Rain pattered, thunder rumbled. It all faded away into white noise.

It was finally over.


	24. You know this, you know this to be true./But if you cannot see it, is it really there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal  
> The next six chapters have combined prompts to help wrap up Fictober.

She listened.

“The ‘real’ Aranthael… is dead Prophetess, He is a Fleshless One, a tool for the High Ones.”

She knew what came next.

“Just as you are.”

She thought nothing else could surprise her anymore. Not with everything she’s seen these past months. But this did. She fell to her knees, hands grasping the foreign control panel in front of her. She could feel the Black Guardian’s sympathy and it made her sick. _It was my fault._

Yet somehow, a deeper, way deeper, part of her that was buried beneath all her glorious idealism knew it to be true. What had the Aged Man said about her?

_And suddenly, just like that, out of nowhere, you can perform feats others would require decades to master. Even better, you’re on of the emissaries. You can hear the Echo of the Future. But still…you never asked yourself: why?_

But she _did_ ask why. Why she could perform magic. Why she had these visions. Why she had to join the Order. Why the weight of humanity’s future suddenly rested on her shoulders. Why she was left behind. Why she survived instead of Sirius.

Well, that last one was no longer true.

The shock wore off quickly. Now she just felt bone tired. She sagged against the console and placed her forehead against the cool metal. She didn’t even feel angry. Her dreams in her old home, where Daddy confronted her, spoke the truth she refused to listen to. _You are nothing. You think you’ve found it but you haven’t._ She imagined if she were Aranthael, she would be spewing denials and stomping away to prove this ancient being wrong. That, in a twisted, prideful way, there was still hope. That the battle of steel would still be just as real.

_So, a shepherd cannot decide the fate of his sheep? What is this really about Prophetess? Your life? The life of that mercenary who is ‘so dear to you?’ This is not the time for arrogance and selfishness! I thought better of you._

So did she. The irony of their parting bubbled up hysteric laughter. It startled the Black Guardian suspended in front of her.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked.

“It’s-it’s nothing. I just..It’s just m-my luck.”

Then the tears came and she couldn’t stop herself from wailing into the snow. She slid down from the console on to her hands and knees.

“It’s not your fault. You were driven, like everyone else, to do what was right.”

She listened.

Why she came to be. _Insignificant at first, of course._

Driven by a final desire. _A wish to taste the sun, feel the grass beneath her feet, the breeze against her cheek, hand-in-hand with a love that’s gone._

A projection made by beings you couldn’t even see. _But they were there._ She saw it in the red eyes of those possessed. She saw them in the grey, burnt bodies that were scattered in the City of A Thousand Floods. She saw them standing by Aranthael. Laughing. _Mocking_. It was _so easy_ for them to manipulate everyone.

She sensed frustration from the Black Guardian and looked up, grey eyes just seeing above the tops of the console.

“It’s a shame the Veiled Woman didn’t send you sooner!”

“I d-don’t think it would h-have mattered in the-the end,” she said. _People are only idealists until it starts to hurt._

“The knowledge you would have possessed could have prevented the Cycle!”

“Or still gotten e-everyone killed.” She bowed her head again. Cool metal against her burning skin. The weariness never left but it felt like lead weights were attached to every joint in her body.

She listened. 


	25. Go forward but do not stray./ At least it can't get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal Warcraft AU  
> Fourth and final part of the AU series following chapters 9,10, and 17.  
> I've fallen in love this AU and will most likely create a seperate fic that tells the whole story...

It was the final stretch.

Corlain was a smoking husk of bodies and wood but the push to Waycrest Manor was all that mattered. Witches and twisted flesh and wood constructs blocked the path but each inquisitor of the newly formed Order of Embers made a protective circle around Lady Lucille Waycrest and Lady Leanara.

“Just a little further!”

Lea shot arrow after arrow, never losing pace beside Lucille. Marshal Reade led the push, shield at the front and sword cleaving enemies too close. The top of the manor peaked above the hill ahead. Someone to their right grunted and locked blows with a construct.

“Hah! Is that all you’ve got?!”

Black, iron wrought gates loomed ahead. Lea could see the intricate patterns warped into sharp angles and jutting points. A gaggle of witches shrieked and used their foul magic to slow the inquisitors at their right flank down.

“Don’t worry about me! Keep going!”

Lucille slowed and watched as one of the inquisitors was overpowered by witch reinforcements. The others did their best to keep him from being dragged back into the town proper. Her eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to give order to change direction.

“Keep forward milady! Do not stray, we are almost there!” The Marshal’s voice was strong and clear through the chaos.

Lucille turned, eyes squeezed shut for the barest of moments before they hardened again to the front. Leanara felt elation and dread. He was so close, she could taste his aura. But something was _wrong_ with it. She hoped it couldn’t get any worse than the bloody trail she had to follow across Drustvar to reach him and the rest of the Waycrests.

She was terribly wrong.

When they crested the hill and entered the courtyard in front of the manor, a dark, magical barrier rose up behind them. It trapped Lady Lucille, Leanara and Marshal Reade while the remaining Inquisitors watched from outside.

“That’s far enough.” A woman’s voice. Old, hollow and laced with malice.

“M-mother?” Lucille Waycrest gasped in horror at the sight in front of them. Leanara did the same then let out a despairing cry.

‘Mother’ as all the other witches called her was none other than the illustrious Lady of House Waycrest. She levitated ominously before them. Her fine dress was tattered at the ends and long, black hair floated behind her in inky tendrils. Her skin was pale blue like a corpse and she had a lopsided smirk as they approached. She extended her bony fingers to them in a welcoming gesture.

A huge, shambling corpse dressed in the ruins of a fine, black suit stood to her right. Bone spikes protruded from his back and arms. His chest lit faintly in a blue glow where his heart was visible and pulsing with magic that spread like spiderwebs to the rest of his twisted form. The ghost of a heartbeat.

And to the Mother’s left…no monstrous transformation had befallen him but his eyes, blue like the deepest ocean swirled with black. Threads of pale blue magic laced his skin and covered him in a faint shroud. His eyebrows were furrowed and mouth drawn into a frown when they approached. He drew his daggers and took a defensive stance in front of Lord and Lady Warcrest.

“I’m so glad you could join us my dear,” said Lady Waycrest, “your father has missed you so.” She gestured to the corpse who made no acknowledgement.

 _“What did you do to him?!”_ Not Lucille but Lea cried out and started to run forward. Marshal Reade held her back with his sword in front.

Lady Waycrest withdrew her hand and glared down at Lea.

“You must be his mistress. He talked so fondly about you,” she drawled. Then she smiled, a cruel twisted gesture that showcased sharp teeth. “The boy was quite rude when he was brought to me…but I put some _manners_ into him.” She placed one hand on his shoulder. A gesture he acknowledged with downturned eyes.

“Damn you!” Lea seethed. “Let him go!”

“Mother…what have you done?” Lucille was on the verge of tears but she held her chin high in defiance to the witch.

“Now now girls…be grateful. Soon, we will be rulers of all Kul’Tiras. Join us so that we can _all_ be reunited.”

Now it was Marshal Reade’s turn to take a defensive stance in front of the women.

“Keep away from them you heartless witch!” he spat.

Lady Waycrest glared once more but this time she raised her hand towards him. A stream of black and blue tendrils reached and snaked around his form, lifting him into the air and towards her.

“Is that any way you talk to a lady, Marshal? I’ll teach you some manners!”

Lucille gaped and backed away, “No! Stop!”

Lea readied her bow and took the Marshal’s place in front of the Lucille, eyes blazing.

“Now, be a dear Marshal and bring these girls to my quarters. Then dispose the rest of these pests.”

“As you wish…Mother.” Marshal Reade turned and faced Lea, sword and shield held ready. A blue shroud covered his body like a blanket. His eyes were hidden by his helmet but blue and black tendrils of magic seeped from the visor.

Lady Waycrest pat her thrall’s shoulder, “Come along, the Council has some use for you. Let’s not keep them waiting."

Lea didn’t watch the Marshal. Even as he attacked and she dodged his sweeping blows, she kept returning her gaze to three retreating figures. Lord and Lady Waycrest ventured leisurely into the manor. Her heart thundered in her chest. It felt like every cell in her body was electrified with panic as his silver head continued further and further away from her. She’d found him too late.

She managed to get the Marshal sprawled on his back and she turned, running into the barrier Lady Waycrest put up. “Jespar? Jespar come back! _Please come back!”_

Jespar Dal’Varek followed behind without a backwards glance and the doors slammed shut behind him.


	26. Remember, you have to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

Her body was not her own. The hands were too big, limbs too long. A flop of hair obscured her eyes that she swept away with a hand. Sweat stained her forehead and she realized she was out of breath. Legs, not her own, moved with long strides to a house nestled between tall pines.

Another minute past when her fist banged hastily on the wooden door did she realize what was happening.

_This must be the Pyrean’s memories!_

A woman, plain with brown hair tied around in a loose bun, opened the door.

“Who–” the woman’s eyes widened in recognition, “It’s you! But what are you doing here?”

She opened her mouth, a voice deeper than her own, spoke out of breath, “It’s Jakal. He’s gone mad! He’s killing everyone and the Cleansing-” she paused and the woman quickly pulled her inside.

“It’s as we feared.”

It was strange, hearing herself speak but not. She watched but not. She interacted but did not. It was like an out of body experience but without ever leaving the body. She could feel his anger and exasperation to the armor clad figure that was the Pyrean’s brother. Soft, protective urges came over when she observed the little girl tossing fitfully in the small, shared bedroom. Relief and excitement, her own this time, when she found the ornate scroll. She quickly read over the contents, the words themselves were foreign to her (so much for the Archmagister’s theory to understand the language) but she could read it plain enough to repeat the words when she went back to the waking world.

The powerful burst of magic down her veins was real enough when soldiers attacked the little cottage. The armored brother had stepped out in front of her only for an arrow to lodge itself in his throat. The Pyrean fought with a sword in one hand and spells in the other. Lightning shot from her fingertips, disintegrating oncoming soldiers. Any that were close were met with steel. She danced gracefully around them combining sword and magic against the enemy. She even placed an enchantment on the sword, wreathing it in flame, when there was a break between waves.

But that was another problem. Waves of soldiers materializing out of the trees in a ceaseless onslaught. The pain was real. A sword sliced her leg. She was bashed against a tree by a shield slam that made her sick and disoriented. The magic she, no _the Pyrean_ she reminds herself, possessed was waning and her fever spiked so sharply she nearly keeled over into another sword.

Finally, _finally_ , the soldiers stopped coming. She panted heavily, sword bloodied and extinguished. How much longer could this go on? She was witnessing the Pyrean’s last memories which means he had to-

A scream cut off her train of thought and she rushed back towards the house. She flung the door open then screamed herself when a wreath of frost entrapped her legs and a shard of ice skewered her gut.

“No..no please!” she coughed. Hands gripped her gut where blood seeped hot and steaming against the protruding ice. Tears welled in her eyes and the mage who attacked sneered down at her. She was going to die! She? No _the Pyrean,_ not her…but it _hurt._ _She was dying…_

“We just wanted to escape! Please-” The mage before her conjured another shard and shoved it into her chest.

Pain so great, it made her scream into the void. Then her vision went black.


	27. I felt it. You know what I mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

The explosion of the Black Guardian’s final generator sent her flying back into the snow. She screwed her eyes shut and felt the cavern shake beneath her back and hands. She was always falling. She ought to stay down this time and sink into the snow. Finally, silence settled except for her harsh breathing and uneven crunch of boots on snow coming toward her.

She heard him first, body falling heavily onto the snow beside her. Warm-no _hot_ -hands cupped her face and lifted her slightly.

“Come on Prophetess, don’t you die on me now after all this.”

The smell of tobacco, sweat, leather, and some kind of rot assaulted her nose. Delirious, part of her wanted to tell him to take a bath. Something must have come out of her mouth because he barked a laugh then put his forehead to hers.

“If we make it up top and dodge all the soldiers, you can take me to the bathhouse and dunk me all you like.”

He helped her into a sitting position and she opened her eyes. Blood matted his silver hair and was splattered on nearly every inch of his skin and armor. Strips of cloth were tied to his right thigh though some red splotches stained it. Most of his armor was scratched and ripped in several places. The flesh monsters the Black Guardian summoned had swarmed him at one point and their nails left shallow marks on his face and hands. Probably explained the smell too.

Despite all that, he grinned at her. The relief so obvious it made his eyes light up like the crest of an ocean wave.

“Did I scare you treasure hunter?” She felt as bad as he looked. Every joint, every muscle screamed in protest to every movement.

“Only for a second, my fair lady.” A lie, but one she took anyway.

It was good to see him. Too good. Only for a second.

They got to their feet and Lea babbled about Aranthael and the Cleansing. Talking made her ignore the pain when they climbed each step back to the surface. Talking made her breathless to the point where Jespar half dragged her the rest of the way. Talking changed his grin into a deep, knowing frown.

“I suspected as much. That entropist, Sha’Rim, didn’t bother to try and get me when the rocks fell,” he muttered. “Guess it’s fitting he’s dead now.” 

They were just below the stockroom of the Emporium. The double doors that opened the way down were half hanging on their hinges. 

“But you-” He groaned and stumbled.

He fell onto his hands and knees. She gasped and watched white lines illuminate beneath his skin. It lasted only a moment but it left the mercenary gasping and covered in a new layer of sweat.

_“Fuck.”_

She touched his cheek then recoiled like she’d been burned. He _was_ burning to the touch.

“Blazes, this must be the Cleansing,” he grit and pushed himself to his feet. “It’s…it’s burning from within. If it’s this bad here I can only imagine what it's like up there…”

He looked at her. His eyes lit up again, this time they turned white.

“Can’t you feel it?”

She could but it wasn’t nearly as intense. It was a prickling underneath her skin. The kind she got when she let her hands linger against a fire for too long.

His crestfallen face hurt more than his skin.

“Then…what the Black Guardian said was true. Your fleshlessness but-” he reached for her, cupping her face again, “you’re here. I see you. I can _feel_ you! It doesn’t make any sense…”

She grabbed his wrists. His fingers curled and twitched as another wave lit his veins.

“We’re out of time…”

“Your decision then…is it final?”

She nodded, letting the tears fall. He closed his eyes and his hands fell to his shoulders.

“Can…can you make it out of here on-on time?” She wanted to run so badly. She knew it was what he would do. But as much as she loved him…she wouldn’t forgive herself. She wouldn’t anyway, leaving him alone.

He nodded slowly. “I think I can make it. There’s another passage that leads to the South Quarter and to the Myrad tower-”

She took him in her arms, her grip reaching around his waist as she buried her face into his chest.

“Ah…” he lowered his head on hers and held her tight, “you always were an idealist weren’t you?”

She didn’t respond. Only continued to ball into his ruined blue coat.

“I love you, you know that?”

She did. Jespar Dal’Varek declaring his love for a dead woman. The world truly was ending.

“I-I’m sorry. For all of this.” She eased off of him. The light didn’t fade from his veins. They glowed faintly but she surmised it would only get stronger the longer they lingered. She watched the blue in his eyes bleed to white.

“You do what you have to.”


	28. Do we really have to do this again?/ I've waited so long for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Enderal

She’d never seen lights in the sky before. Even when she travelled north with Jespar or Calia, they never appeared. Jespar kept trying to describe them to her; how they only appeared in arctic regions and painted the sky. _“Qyranian scholars called it the Aurora Borealis.”_ How they were every artists dream to see in such a harsh environment. It was all very romantic (one she will forever tease him about) but she was disappointed she didn’t see them in her travels.

When she stepped out onto the deck of _Gertrude_ her breath caught. The lights weren’t above but all around. _Well that’s fitting,_ she thought after a few moments of admiring the myriad of colors, _we are flying to the Star City after all._ Blues and greens swirled lazily against the stars. She caught Lijam leaning over one of the banisters, staring open-mouthed at them. Maegistra Yaela was still meditating on the bow. Kurmai muttered towards his little spiderlings by a nearby beam. She’d just come from the hull with Calia; the suspended air sphere powering the ship was also beautiful to behold. But there was one person missing she was eager to find.

She crept her way up to the helm. Despite the altitude, there was a cool breeze tickling her skin. Looked right. Looked left. And there he was, on the left overlook that stretched from the helm.

She turned left to approach him. He didn’t see her yet, which was good. It gave her time to watch him. The way he leaned over the banister, silver hair tousled from the breeze. He traded his blue leather coat for a simple white shirt. He looked...contemplative. Not relaxed, his shoulders were too tight, he fidgeted with his hands and sighed a lot.

When she climbed the few steps onto the outlook he turned his head to her and smiled.

“Can’t get the jump on you can I?” She took a place beside him and leaned forward, mimicking his pose.

“You’re quiet fair lady, but you give yourself away if others know what to look for.”

_Oh?_ “What gives me away then?” she asked with raised brows.

“Now if I told you that, what defense will I have against our Prophetess?” he winked and some of the tension eased from his stance. In the months she got to know him, she always tried to spook him, whether she tried to sneak up on him or surprise him randomly. He didn’t boast about his skills but he carried himself with a certain level of finesse in battle. It became her mission then to try and throw him off. Not during battle of course, she didn’t want to be another cause of death...but in taverns or on the road she’d try different tactics to get him.

Nothing worked. He always caught her mid-act and even surprised her a few times. 

She feigned hurt, “I wouldn’t try and bump you off. You’re too handsome, I wouldn’t have the heart.”

They laughed. It felt good to laugh. The lines that creased his brows and mouth in recent months vanished. But as the laughter died, an awkward silence filled in.

“It’s a crazy world isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“On our way to a forgotten city in the clouds...and I’m a part of it. That just sounds...surreal.” He paused, reached for her, paused again, then retreated. She didn’t know what to make of that so she sidled a little closer. “Anyway, it’s good that you’re here, I did want to talk to you...you have a second?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she smiled brightly at him. Put him at ease again. It seemed to work because he smiled back.

“You have a point there. I...How should I put it?” He sighed and looked out to the sky. The colored lights seemed to dim just for this moment. “I wanted to thank you. I’m not sure if you know it, but all that has happened since I plucked you out of that thicket on the Suncoast…It did something to me.”

She was sure it did something to all of them. For better and for worse.

“It's hard to put in words. You know... I still believe what I told you that time we met at the Dancing Nomad. That we all act as we do because we hope that it makes us happy. But somehow, in no small part thanks to my father”--i _t was always the father,_ she thought--“I've always considered responsibility and being happy to be contradictory. But actually, that's wrong, it's the exact opposite. In order to be truly content, we need... connection. To a person, to a cause, to anything. If you never find that, you'll never find yourself.”

“That’s definitely a change from what you said in the Silver Cloud,” just thinking about that mess made her stomach drop, “‘We’re born alone, and we die alone.’ That’s what you said before.”

He looked crestfallen and sighed again.

“Do we really have to go through this again?” she asked. She really, _really_ didn’t want to.

He shook his head, “No. We don’t.” She tried to catch his eyes but every time she did, he looked away or looked past her.

“But,” she said and his eyes snapped to hers for a brief moment, “what you’re saying is we all need something to live for right?”

He shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. In the end I can only speak for myself.”

True. Also vague, as usual.

He hesitated then continued, “The fact is, though, that it,” he paused. He was doing that a lot tonight. Jespar Dal’Varek lost for words. Somehow, he found his resolve and plowed on, “I don’t know, it feels like I owe this world to be right here, right now. As part of something...momentous.”

He smiled. Soft like he accepted the outcome. It was weird and oddly comforting to watch.

“And I like how that feels, that surprises me. No matter how all of this ends, I will have no regrets.”

_Truly? Have you truly come to terms with what you did? What you’re becoming?_

“The same goes for our friendship, that’s what I wanted to tell you. Despite all the trouble we got ourselves into, I’m glad our paths crossed, for whatever reason they did.” He looked her in the eye as he said this. The one thing he could be confident about at least. But they were still guarded.

She should leave it like that. Friends, that’s all they were. Something nagged her though. She wanted so badly to ask: _so that’s it?_ So bad, she was going to burst if she didn’t. She took a deep breath.

“So it’s just friends then?”

His eyes widened in surprise and she steeled herself for his response. Instead of immediate rejection, like he had when they were on the watchtower, he laughed sheepishly and hunched his shoulders.

“Ah…” He scratched the back of his head, “Okay, now you did it….I feel stupid.”

Her hopes were rising. She felt them rise from her chest into her throat. She didn’t want to pressure him but she wanted this. She wanted him to know just how she felt.

“But I know what you’re implying, and as much as it hurts me to say this,” he looked away from her, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. For neither me nor you.”

_No. No no no, please don’t do this. I’m so stupid, why did I say anything, please-_

“Why isn’t it?” she asked.

He took a shaky breath and looked ruefully into the distance, “I just don’t think it would work.”

And just like that, those hopes dipped and crashed at her feet. He looked like a kicked puppy from his own answer. He tightly gripped the banister and closed his eyes.

“I’m different, especially when it comes to love, and if you’re like most others...I don’t think I can make you happy. Our friendship...it just means too much to me to risk it for this.”

He didn’t think he could make her happy? She was already happy! Well, happy as one could be when so many died around her. Including him. Didn’t he know that? Did he think something huge would change? Obviously so judging by how uncomfortable and miserable he now looked. But then again, _so much had changed._ But he still valued her greatly. She could work with that at least but she wanted to know _why._

“I don’t get it Jespar, what is your problem with love?”

He tried to explain it. How love was a construct. _Expectations, false promises, jealousy._ Those things came with everything else in life too though didn’t it? Friendships for instance. But he wanted more too. _Traveling, talking through the nights, being close to you._ They did that. At the threat of annihilation bearing down on them sure, but they did. _Hadn’t been close to anyone in a long time though...have you?_

_Life in unpredictable._ That was one hell of an understatement in her case. It must have shown on her face because he added quickly that _emotions_ were unpredictable. She questioned his commitment. In all honesty she didn’t care...much...if he slept with anyone else. _Love is one thing, sex is another._ He refused to love anyone else. She was special in that regard. Even if he didn’t say it directly, it is what it is. There was a comfort knowing that. But it all chalked down to one thing.

“It sounds to me that you’re afraid of losing your freedom.”

All this talking around it...when she said it his brows rose in surprise. Then his face set in resignation, “Yeah...yeah, I guess I am.”

She sighed heavily, “Blazes you’re really complicated.”

“Just like most people when you get to know them, don’t you think?” He smiled sadly at her.

Yes, she did think so.

“In my experience, emotional bondage was never a good basis for human relationships.” Yes, she thought, you preferred the one night stands, the touch of flesh and fleeting kisses if it meant keeping it physical. If it meant never knowing their name. If it meant their value were no more than yours. If it meant fucking under the haze of booze and drug. Or fucking if it meant getting your fix after a job.

She halted the negative spiral and instead focused on his face. His mouth was pulled into a frown, brows slanted. He avoided her eyes. They flicked everywhere but her eyes. _He’s afraid._ That was the last thing she wanted him to feel around her.

“I’d never tell you what to do, who to look at or who to sleep with, as long as I know that I’m the one you plan to keep.”

That was always the plan. If he wanted it. It sounded like he did but she knew he valued his freedom above everything else. She wasn’t going to take that away from him, but she wasn’t going to make him choose either.

“If you really want to do this, let’s not put a name on this, ever. Let’s just...see where it takes us.”

She looked away and focused on the Aurora Borealis.

**********

Relationships tied people down. In Jespar’s experience and what he’d seen, love was twisted into a social construct, just like the Paths, to be followed. But what he felt for the woman in front of him didn’t deserve that kind of scrutiny or taint. He loved teasing her, watching her squirm or shoot back a retort to any of his witty responses. He looked back on his behavior in the Silver Cloud and screwed his eyes shut. It was worse now that he was sober. He didn’t want to go through this again. Part of him wanted her to reject him. Keep it simple _(nothing was going to be simple anymore)._ Keep it like they had been _(he could settle as friends…)_. They could part ways when all was said and done _(help her but don’t fall in)._ The more he tried to rationalize, the more his chest hurt. He really needed a drink.

But...

She respected his distance on it and he’d been surprised at himself with the amount of self-control he had around her. Any other time he would have already bedded her and moved on, but Lea was special. Even more so than what Lysia had ever been. And being the “Prophetess” had little to do with it. She listened to him. Didn’t scrutinize or belittle him. He could speak his mind freely about everything and anything. Well almost everything. The longer they worked, the more he fell down her rabbit hole. He desperately didn’t want to care. He drank himself silly drunk these past few months so he didn’t have to think about it. Only after the Silver Cloud and the attack on Ark did he give up the struggle. It was too much of a damn headache to not feel fucking warm and fuzzy around her. As sappy as that sounded, that was the best way to describe it. He thought of Lysia and compared her to a raging forest fire. Then that made Lea a warm fire in a hearth. One you could warm your hands on and spend hours in front of.

He watched her gaze into the horizon. She really did look beautiful tonight. She wore a dark tunic and pants that hugged her curves. Her hair was loose and sweeping around her shoulders. Golden eyes focused ahead on the lights. He was glad that she finally got to see them. He’d talked so much about them when they traveled through the Crystal Forest that she almost ran into a few of the trees trying to keep her eyes trained for lights in the sky.

Silence stretched between them. He saw the crease in her brow, mouth pulled tight and hands flexing on the banister.

He didn’t blame her for rejecting him. His notion of love wasn’t normal or widely accepted. But he hoped to the Wise Hermit and the dead Gods that this wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

He took a step back. The motion shook her from whatever she was thinking and she turned back to him.

“You should get some rest Lea,” he said quietly, “I fear I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

_Here I am, running away again. Close off. Don’t open your heart. But it had been opening slowly for you wasn’t it? I’m a damn fool._

“No,” she said quickly. He was taken aback. She looked taken aback from the panic in her voice too. It lasted only a second before she set her face boldly to him. “No, let’s see where this takes us.”

Her eyes were clear and bright in certainty. _She really wanted to try?_ He wanted this. Really wanted this. And she did too. _It wasn’t much, hell he didn’t know what to call it. No labels but..._ Something in his mind roared in triumph and excitement. It must have been obvious on his face because she smiled, took a step forward and touched his face. Her slim fingers were warm and gentle on his skin. She stroked the scar on his cheek and stood on her toes to plant a soft kiss on his slightly parted mouth.

He pulled back but only just. His mind was reeling. Her lips were soft. Definitely wanted more of that. “Really? I thought a lot about what you’d say but—“

She cut him off with another kiss. Deeper, needier. He couldn’t help himself and wrapped his arms around her small frame. He’d waited a long time for this. She probably did too. He sure as hell wasn’t going to fight this anymore. She held his interest since the Suncoast and it bloomed into something...well more. Still no labels. This should lead to a bed...

“Oh blazes why am I still talking?” he murmured, breaking the kiss for a few seconds. And thinking. Fuck it, he wasn’t going to think about it anymore. She was a head shorter but that was easily rectified when he picked her up and pressed her against a nearby beam of the ship. Part of him was deathly afraid she would fall off if he kept her against the banister. That would have been horrifically funny if he didn’t just confess himself to her. She squeaked in surprised and he smothered it with his own sound kiss. This worked _much_ better.

She was so light and he had a firm grip on her thighs. He continued to kiss her, smiled against her lips when she wrapped her arms and legs around him. _She was so close._ His body was reacting in kind and he heard a little gasp when he moved his hips. He was pleased as she reciprocated in kind with how tight she held him. How her hands moved up to tangle in his hair. Her tongue darting out to his.

_Fuck._ Well yes, his body was definitely wanted to do that _but fuck-_

Someone loudly cleared their throat. The sudden third presence had their lips tearing apart. Lea’s face flushed pink and she slipped back down onto the deck as he carefully released his hold. Now would really be bad time drop of her over the edge because of an interruption. Jespar had to take a few deep breaths and straighten his posture as Magistra Yaela regarded them with a raised brow. Despite their blatant intimacy, she smirked at them and motioned to the door that led below deck.

“You might want to go somewhere a little more private,” she said, a knowing sparkle in her eyes, “before Kurmai says something anyway. He’s so busy talking to the Spiderlings that he hasn’t noticed you yet.”

They both nodded in response.

“Yes, thank you Magistra,” he said, still sounding out of breath, “have a good night.”

“Good night Mysir Dal’Varek. You as well Prophetess. Don’t be up too late.”

Well. He couldn’t promise that.

He grabbed Lea’s hand and led her below deck. There was more he wanted to do and to show just how much he cared about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wraps up Fictober. Despite being late, this was still a lot of fun to do! I may also expand on some of these prompts in the future, who knows?  
> Thank you to everyone that read and gave kudos! You guys rock!! :)


End file.
